


Illusive Realities (Down the Underground)

by inklesspages



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Escapism, Family Issues, Female Frisk (Undertale), Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slight Cursing, vent fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 25,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23128546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inklesspages/pseuds/inklesspages
Summary: Frisk never had a good life. Sure, she still had both of her parents with her, and they still do provide her with food and the basic necessities. But... the list of good things stops there. Frisk had known the sounds of shattering objects and shouting more than the sound of laughter, and she was more familiar with the feeling of atmospheric tension rather than love.One night, as things get out of hand in Frisk's household, Frisk falls into a world that she has only heard through stories and legends, a world that was down the underground, and into the embrace of Mount Ebott.A journey to find her identity, peace, and love... even though the possibilities are slim.
Relationships: Frisk (Undertale) & Everyone
Comments: 17
Kudos: 35





	1. Prologue - Fallen Down

It all started when she drifted to unconsciousness.

Frisk barely remembers the fact that she had been sleeping under the weight of two massive duvet covers, and hugging as much stuff toys as she could fit around her tiny arms. She hadn’t even changed out of her striped shirt, slacks, and boots that she had worn to school today. All she knows is that she had to drown out the screams that her parents were making—cancel out all the curses and the slurs and the sounds of various objects shattering.

It all started when tears started trickling down her cheeks.

In the midst of all the muffled arguments, she could hear the sound of her tears dripping onto her pillow. It was an unrhythmic, heavy _drip, drip_ sound, until it turned to a steady stream of bitterness and confusion.

It all started when she was determined to escape this hell of a home.

Don’t get her wrong, she was still ultimately hopeful that everything would turn out to be okay in the end. She yearns for the days that when she would cry, it would be because of wounds gotten from playing outside rather than cowering from the threatening sounds coming from the kitchen. She yearns for the days that when she would look for comfort, it would be found in the arms of her parents and not in the synthetic fur of Mr. Buttercup.

She has told herself countless times: _stay determined._ It wasn’t too late to give up home to still have a happy family.

Right?

As she fell into the dark recesses of her own mind, a mountain of gaping insecurities and countless illusive daydreams, she felt her own hopes and dreams slip from her grasp.

For a moment there was nothing. Just peace and serenity in a world of darkness…

No dreams, just the existence of nothing…

…and then she woke up to a patch of vividly yellow buttercups beneath her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! So... this is my first time publishing a story to AO3, and my second time just publishing online. I apologize in advance for the errors that I might have overlooked, and just know that I am open to constructive comments and reviews so I can make my writing style better or even make improvements to future updates in the story! On another note, I won't have any specific update schedules, as I am a graduating student from High School. Thank you for taking interest in Illusive Realities!


	2. Ruins

Soft. It was definitely soft.

Frisk never remembered her bed being this lush and comfortable. It had always been stiff, unjumpable, and unpleasant to a certain degree. After all, Frisk’s bed had only been obtained from a garage sale in the neighborhood, but even her parents had tried to get it for an even lower price, two worn-out duvet covers included. The bed was springy in all the wrong places, but even then, she was still grateful to have something to lie onto every night.

Even her parents never had the luxury of what Frisk has.

She opened her eyes, and she was greeted by the sight of slightly tall, yellow buttercups. Immediately, all her senses were overwhelmed with the scent, sight, and touch (somehow, even taste?) of it. In her confusion, she sat up, and patted all around the patch for Mr. Buttercup.

More confusion. Her stuff toys were not around, and when she looked more, _nothing_ resembled her room. There were no torn blue and pink wallpapers, no study table, and no faded wooden floorboards.

Just the yellow buttercups and the unsightly view of a place filled with rubble and ruins.

It was just now that she decided to take a proper look at where she was right now. The patch of flowers that she was on was the only piece of flora and nature around. If she peered through the faded darkness ahead, she could only see piles upon piles of cobblestone and sandstone rubble. It seemed like there used to be a huge structure that once stood, but with whatever happened, it just fell apart with time and erosion (that word was the only thing that she remembered from her Science class yesterday, because somehow, the spelling looked funny).

She looked up, and light peeked through a hole that was _way_ above the ceiling.

The thought of her climbing up to the light was considered for a brief moment, but she quickly dismissed it. The walls were too steep for her to climb, and there weren’t that much ledges for her to grab onto. Too dangerous, and she would rather explore another way out.

First order of business: she has to leave the comfy patch of flowers.

It sounds ridiculous, but she doesn’t want to actually get up. The flowers were supporting her wonderfully, and it was a miracle that the flowers that were underneath her weren’t completely crushed yet. Somehow, they look springy and firm.

No. She has to get out of here—who knows how worried her mom and dad are when they find out that she’s missing?

That’s if… if they even noticed that she was gone.

Okay, Frisk settles that she was not even in a rush to get out of this place. This was the _perfect_ distraction from everything that was happening up there. The desolation, the isolation, and the destruction around did not even scare her in the first place. Rather, it was quite comforting that she was here. The tranquil and the quiet was enough for her to make her even want to stay. It seems very irrational and out of line, but it was what she had felt, seeing everything for the first time.

Before she can get too attached to the flowers, she stood up, patting her striped shirt and the back of her slacks. Quick adjustments to her boots were made before she headed east, to where most of the ruins lay in wait.

The only sounds around the place were her footsteps. It eerily echoed through the cavern, bouncing off the walls. At a distance, she sees an entrance to… somewhere. Two gigantic pillars stood tall at the gaping entrance, and as she squints as an attempt to peer further, all she sees is more darkness waiting for her.

Fear surges through her heart, but it was overridden by the determination to just get out.

She’s ten years old. She can do this. After all, you can’t spell Frisk without _risk_. She was born to explore.

Frisk walked through the entrance, looking back at the pillars with intimidation. They were astonishingly big, and she wondered how these things were even built inside. It was as mysterious as the Egyptian pyramids she had learned in her History class back in school, and she thinks if people ever knew this existed. No one in town seemed to even talk about this place.

But… wait. Frisk remembers a nursery rhyme that she used to sing. Something about falling into Mount Ebott, and humans winning a certain war.

A war with who…?

Her thoughts are interrupted when she had reached another bright spot in the cavern, much like the one at the flower patches. This time though, there was no patch. Just one golden flower, standing proudly in the middle of the light.

Curious, Frisk finds herself drawing nearer to this flower. She wonders if the petals were as soft as the ones in the other room, but before she could reach out—

“Howdy!”

Startled, Frisk takes several steps back. Did this flower just talk?

A face morphs on the flower, and it shows a happy, whimsical expression, like it—he? was happy to see Frisk.

?????

“My name is Flowey. Flowey the flower.”

When Frisk didn’t react, Flowey takes in her confused and bewildered expression. He laughs, and his high-pitched giggles bounce off the cavern walls too.

“You’re new to the Underground, aren’tcha?” Frisk doesn’t answer, and he continues as he tilts his head to the side. “Golly, you must be so confused. Someone ought to teach you how things work around here!”

Flowey looks left and right, and seemingly pleased that he is the only person (entity???) around, he adds, “I guess little old me will have to do.”

Frisk takes a moment to take in everything that was in front of her and everything that was said to her. Okay, a talking yellow flower that would teach her how everything works in this place. Okay. He seems friendly. Trustworthy. It had been a long time since Frisk made a friend.

Flowey breaks through Frisk’s thoughts with a high-pitched question. “Ready?”

She nods.

“Here we go!”

When Frisk thought things wouldn’t get any weirder, a floating bright red heart bursts forth from her chest, and everything turned dark all of a sudden. It was just her and Flowey, and this floating heart that seemed so foreign yet so familiar to her.

“See that heart? That is your soul, the very culmination of your being! Your soul starts off weak, but can grow strong if you gain a lot of LV.”

Frisk tilts her head, and Flowey seems to get the question.

“What's LV stand for? Why, LOVE, of course! You want some love, don't you?”

This seemed to get Frisk on edge, and yet, her interest spiked through her cautious stance.

Love was something that she had always wanted to have. A hug from her parents. Maybe even just ruffle of her hair. A smile directed at her would be really nice too.

Love was something that seemed so abstract to her, but it was something that she would readily share to anyone who needed it. It was how she made some friends in school, before they closed her off the friend groups, just because of how her parents acted around. Because sometimes, their arguments would spark in public places, and oh, what a spectacle it was.

Frisk had never felt so alone.

Flowey picks up the long silence. “…Don't worry, I'll share some with you!”

Spinning white pellets surround Flowey. “Down here, LOVE is shared through... little white... friendliness pellets. Are you ready? Move around! Get as many as you can!”

Frisks moves her heart to get a hold on the pellets, and as she makes contact with one, searing pain strikes through her chest.

She falls down in shock, and her body freezes. _Ow._ It hurt. It hurt. It hurt.

_Help._

Through the blinding pain and her tears, she looks up at Flowey, who is now wearing an evil smile. More confusion blurs her line of thought, and she could only muster:

_Why?_

“You idiot! In this world, it's kill or BE killed. Why would ANYONE pass up an opportunity like this!?”

More pellets materialized, and they now encompass Frisk, leaving her trapped. There was no way out.

With more hate than she could ever comprehend, she hears Flowey mutter through gritted teeth:

“Die.”

The pellets move towards her, and she closes her eyes. What will she do? Is this really how she’s going to go? She hasn’t… she hasn’t even said goodbye to her parents. No, how will they know that she still loved them, despite their lack of it?

If this was how love really was, bullets of aching pain and betrayal… it kind of makes sense. It’s how her parents acted around each other anyways. Was that love?

Frisk wants none of it.

She feels magic on her skin, and she thinks it is the pellets drawing near—

As she closes her eyes tighter to brace for the pain, she hears a shrill _EEK_!

Her eyes fly open, and now she sees a towering goat-like creature walking towards her. She donned long-sleeve royal purple robes with an emblem in the middle. When she made eye contact, she felt the goat-like creature’s worry and concern.

“What a terrible creature, torturing such a poor, innocent youth!”

The creature reaches out to Frisk, and she feels her shaking. “Ah, do not be afraid, my child. I am Toriel, caretaker of the Ruins. I pass through this place every day to see if anyone has fallen down.”

Frisk slowly felt better, and she looks up to Toriel. She must be the one healing her. “You are the first human to come here in a long time.” A quick once-over was done and Toriel looks more concerned now. “Are you lost?”

In a heartbeat, she laughed for a bit. “Oh, of course you are. You have fallen, after all. Come, I will guide you through the catacombs.”

Toriel stood up, and she offered her hand for Frisk to take. Toriel was gentle, and she felt that when she had held Frisk to check if she was all right. Despite her massive figure, and the fact that Frisk’s head could easily cover her face, she was gentler than anyone else—everyone else, in the surface.

Despite Flowey’s betrayal, it would be but common sense for Frisk to not trust anyone afterwards. But there was something in Toriel that was so caring, so maternal…

She took her hand, and stood up, and she allowed her to lead her to wherever Toriel wanted to go.

After a while, she had learned that in the Underground, puzzles were rampant, and they allowed her to get her to the next few rooms. It was mildly entertaining, and it was very interesting. Toriel had been patient enough to teach her how to solve a few of them and teach her what to do in every encounter that she may get through. Always be kind. Show mercy. Wait for Toriel to sort things out.

Seems very simple enough. Even though Frisk needed to get back to the surface, she was definitely warming up to this place. The Froggits seemed kind enough if you shower them compliments, the Whimsuns in the place were generally harmless.

Nothing was confusing for Frisk so far, until she saw bright golden shimmer that resembled a star just in front of Home.

Frisk asked what that mysterious object was as she looked up to Toriel for answers. But instead of confidence showing through her face, Toriel could only muster up confusion.

“My child, to what light were you pertaining to?”

Here, Frisk pointed, and leaned to touch the beaming star.

The world turned bright, and she was back again in her home. On the bed, covered with two massive duvet covers, embracing Mr. Buttercup and a bunch of other stuff toys.

“Frisk, I swear to God, you are going to be late for school, and I would HATE to think that we are wasting money on your lazy ass, even though that’s EXACTLY what you’re doing right now.”

That was Dad. There was the blue and pink wallpaper, the study table, and the faded wooden floorboards.

She was back again in the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and reviews are still very much appreciated!


	3. Once Upon A Time

“You’re always like this, Frisk. Sure, you’re smart academically, but I wish you would just have a _bit_ of fu—”

Car horn.

“—ing common sense. You really are like your petty excuse of a mother. All brain at the wrong times…”

Frisk stared at the view passing by on her car window. Everything felt like a blur ever since she woke up from her dream. While she was trying to adjust from her very, very vivid dream, her father had been roaring at her to get ready as fast as she can, because she would be the very reason why he would be late at his “ _shithole of an office_ ” work. She had been trembling horribly as she was preparing for school because of how _scary_ his voice was when he started yelling…

…and now that his voice had gone down a notch in the car, it was only her hands that were twitching uncontrollably.

She clasped her hands tightly in a vain effort to stop it. Her dad was still rambling on and on about how useless she and her mother was as he was driving, but Frisk tried her best to shut his voice out. She was already in the brink of shameful tears.

More pressuring things were on her mind, however, and it was the whole Underground experience.

It felt so real. The ruins, the pain, and the people that were in her dream. Calling the entire thing a dream seemed wrong to Frisk, for reasons that were very much unknown. It’s like she wanted to acknowledge that everything that she had seen was existing, no matter how obscure and absurd it was.

Gigantic pillars under the mountain? Murderous yellow flowers that looked very trustworthy? Goat-like creatures that showed more parental promise than her very own mother and father? If she told this to her Dad at one point, she would very much be thrown to the depths of Mt. Ebott by him.

She was already so useless in his eyes. She wouldn’t want to add _insane_ and _psychotic_ in the mix.

Regret prickled all over Frisk’s body for waking up. For the first time in so long, she had felt very much safe in Toriel’s arms. The simple gesture of holding hands with Toriel made her want to stay and forget all the things that have happened in the surface. She would trade her entire life in the surface for even just the entertaining encounters with the Froggits, the Moldsmals, and the Whimsuns. Even when they tried to approach her and fill the air with unnecessary tension, it always ended up with a shake of friendship and a fitful of laughter.

Frisk felt a tear rolling down her cheek.

The car abruptly stopped, and Frisk would have been thrown onto the back of the driver’s seat if she hadn’t strapped herself with a seatbelt. Her heart ran a million miles per second, but she knew that the car only stopped because…

“If you’re done sulking your brain off to God knows where, I would like to inform you that we’re already here. In school.”

Frisk unbuckled her seatbelt and grabbed her backpack. To her surprise though, her father opened the door for her, and just stared as he waited for her to slip out of the car.

For one second, she thought she had seen mild softness in her Dad’s eyes, but before that idea could even register in her mind, his eyes turned back to cold steel as he glanced at the time.

“Tsk. Fucking late again. The mother—women, should do this task. Not the breadwinner. I’m already the one doing shit for the family…”

And without so much as a goodbye, he went back to the car and veered off, leaving white smoke in his wake.

Frisk was a burden.

The thought stuck to her as she dragged her feet to the classroom.

* * *

The shrill ring of the bell echoed through the hallways of the school and as if rehearsed many times, the classroom doors opened in sync, spilling out hyperactive children into the playground and the cafeteria. Most of the classrooms were now empty, except for one, in which Frisk still sat in her wooden armchair.

The History teacher, Ms. Agatha, began packing up her things from her desk to prepare for her next class. But seeing Frisk in her peripheral vision made her slow down and stop.

“Frisk?” Ms. Agatha gently called out, heading nearer to her armchair. “Why are you still here? You’re usually one of the kids who run off first to the playground.”

No answer came when she squatted to meet Frisk’s brown eyes. Frisk looked like she was very deep in thought. Her eyes were glazed with moist, and her teacher even thought that she wasn’t really attentive in her class today. She didn’t raise her hand when it came to the interactive parts in class. Her attention only spiked up with the passing mention of Mt. Ebott.

But that was it.

Seeing that Frisk didn’t really want to speak up, she stood up again and walked to the table. She picked up her materials and headed for the door. Before she could completely exit the room though, she took one last glance at Frisk.

“If you need me, Frisk, I will just be in my office. The door is open for you any time, darling.”

No verbal answer yet again, but Ms. Agatha was sure that she had heard her as she saw her minuscule nod.

The classroom was silent once more as Ms. Agatha’s footsteps got farther.

Frisk was so engrossed with her own thoughts that she thought she might be eaten by her own mind and cease to exist. It was virtually impossible, but it may as well be it.

Could she return to the Underground if she tried to sleep again? Would she still end up with Toriel if she just closed her eyes for the night? Something about the Underground felt familiar to her—not by memory but by her knowledge.

There was a nursery rhyme about falling into Mt. Ebott.

Frisk groaned in frustration as she tried to remember the lyrics of it. She hadn’t sung the song in a long time, and there were so much distractions in her mind that she couldn’t even bother trying to reach for that.

Squeals from the playground interrupted her thoughts, and Frisk glared at the classroom window.

The playground was right beside her classroom, and so she could see her fellow classmates playing around with boundless energy. Their smiles reached their eyes and their peals of laughter sounded so pure and joyful. Frisk felt a pang of sadness in her heart, knowing that she wouldn’t be as happy as them if the things in her family wouldn’t be solved. She then thought of her classmates’ own families. They must have felt all the possible warmth in the world with their hugs and kisses. They must have felt very much grateful for all the good things that are so readily given to them by their moms and dads.

_Was it too much to ask for that too?_

Frisk puts her attention back to her lap, and she bites her lips in an attempt to hold back tears that were forming since early this morning. But before another teardrop could break free from her hold, a kid’s voice got her attention once more.

“Hey, hey! Let’s play Monsters and Humans!”

“Ew, that old game? But we haven’t played that since pre-school!”

They were now in fifth grade.

“Come on, it’s fun though!”

“Okay, if you insist…”

Frisk turns her head back to the window, where she sees a group form in the playground, near the classroom window. Frisk barely remembers what would happen in the game, but… the one of the players would point to each of the other players during the song. After every line, whoever gets the player’s finger landed on gets to be the monster. After the nursery rhyme, the monsters would chase after the humans. The monsters can ‘eliminate’ all the humans by tapping them. The humans can ‘eliminate’ all the monsters by capturing them and holding their hands for five seconds. So, it has to be either the monsters or humans who have to win.

Okay. That was the gist of the entire game.

_What was the nursery rhyme though??_

“Okay, let’s sing in three, two, one!”

**“Every good rhyme starts with once upon a time.**

**Long ago, far away,**

**Centuries before our day.**

**Humans lived; monsters roamed.**

**Both shared earth and sky as home.**

**Yet this peace came undone,**

**War was waged and humans won.**

**Forced below, monsters fell.**

**Humans trapped them with a spell.**

**Listen, children, to my words.**

**Ebott will eat you, beware the curse!**

**Monster teeth go** _clack, clack, clack_ **.**

**If you climb the mountain, you won’t come back!**

**Human child, human child, won’t turn around.**

**Human child, human child—oops! They fell down!**

**Human child, human child, look out below!**

**Down underground where the monsters go.”**

The song ended there, and the group dispersed with a series of shrieks and excited yelling. The game had now begun, with monsters chasing humans, and humans capturing monsters. But Frisk wasn’t focused on that now, because she remembers the rest of the song. It wasn’t usually sung during the game, but it was there. And now she was very convinced that they were real. It matched the events that happened in the Ruins.

_Oops, dropped your heart._

_Be careful in the dark._

_Someone might take it, break it apart._

_Trouble on the left, trouble on the right._

_Will you spare them, run, or fight?_

Frisk had an epiphany of sorts, and she bolted from the classroom to Ms. Agatha’s office. She had to know if it was real, and she needed proof. The History teacher would very much well explain that.

Three firm knocks were made by Frisk, and she hears a muffled ‘come in!’ before she opened the door wide.

“Whoa, Frisk, slow down!” Ms. Agatha laughed. “I didn’t expect you would come this soon.”

Seeing Frisk heave to catch her breath, she gestured to the chair in front of her desk. “Take a seat, dear. Calm down before you talk to me. What is it that you needed?”

But she couldn’t calm down. She was burning with an unquenchable thirst for information, and determination to prove that it was real. The Underground was real. The nursery rhyme wasn’t just something spun out from the imagination of some other adult. It was real. Something happened. It was real.

The question slipped out of Frisk’s lips. “Do you know if there was some important stuff that happened in Mt. Ebott, Ms. Agatha?”

The teacher blinked. “I guess you really were blanking out earlier, dear, but… I’ll recap what I said earlier in class for you.” She gave Frisk a patient smile.

“No one really knows how we got the name for Mt. Ebott. After all, the place is an overall mystery itself. For some reason, there are no physical records of the events that might revolve around the mountain. I tried looking, I did. But the official bookkeeping office—not the library, mind you, but the records that keep track of all the important events and discoveries.

“Are you still with me, Frisk?”

Frisk had already stopped heaving, and all that is shown in her face was pure determination and interest. She nods.

“Okay, back to what I was saying, it was odd that everything else was in there. Complete. Dated. But not Mt. Ebott. Even the clerks working there were confused too, but they could not give any answers as they were new. The old keepers had already retired.

Anyhow, I know that children go missing when they climb Mt. Ebott. It was mentioned in a few books here. After all, one of the town mayor’s kids from way back 191X had been lost too. She was seen last walking around the outskirts of the mountain. Five more children were reported to have been lost too.” Ms. Agatha sighed.

Frisk looked even more curious. “Were they found?”

Another sigh. “Sadly, none of them were found. The locals had been searching up and down, all day and all night. No one came up.”

Frisk looked even more confused now than curious. “Do you think…there are monsters living in the mountain that could’ve taken the kids?”

From a grave expression, Ms. Agatha’s face twisted to an amusement of sorts. “Your imagination is speaking again, darling.”

“But no—!” Frisk tries to argue but upon realizing that her loud tone must have been disrespectful, she tones it down. “Sorry Ms. Agatha.”

She smiles. “Don’t be.”

Frisk continues, “But what about the nursery rhymes that my classmates were singing?”

She recites the rhyme in the same sing-song manner, and Ms. Agatha tries to understand.

“I’m sorry, Frisk, but that is all there is to it.” Ms. Agatha hoped that she came across as understanding. “It’s just a nursery rhyme designed to keep kids out of the mountain, to stop them from wandering around and getting lost.”

When Frisk’s eyes turn downcast and thoughtful, the bell rings to signal the start of another class session.

“It’s time for you to go back, Frisk. Did I answer your questions?”

Frisk nods. “Thank you, Ms. Agatha.”

“Tell me if you need anything, dear. Remember, my office is always open for you.”

She nods in acknowledgment, and she turns to leave the room.

When the door closes, her heart becomes heavy with the thought that the encounters might not have been real. But with her determination settling and being discontent with all the answers laid in front of her today, she remained hopeful.

It will only be the night that will give her the answers to everything she had.

It will only be the darkness that will lead her to her haven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Again, thank you so much for taking interest in Illusive Realities!
> 
> The nursery rhyme used in the chapter is not made by me, but it was from a YouTube video made by Dearheart42! It is a nursery rhyme version of the song "Once Upon A Time". It was so good that I wanted to at least reference it in this story.
> 
> Again, the lyrics are not made by me! I will link the video here so you can partake of the coolness of the song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X2znUtDl5gs
> 
> Comments, reviews, and even kudos are highly appreciated! Love you all!


	4. Home

Frisk opened the black metal gate that led her to her house. It was nearly four in the afternoon, which was a pretty early time to come home to. But then again, she wouldn’t want to make the same mistake of waiting for her Dad to come pick her up at school when he was mad. It happened one time, and she ended up waiting until nine in the evening.

Since then, Frisk always knew when she would have to walk home from school or wait for her father to drive her home. Today was one of those times in which she had to drag her feet back to their own residence that was a mile away.

No one was home yet, Frisk noted in her mind as she opened the front door with her own set of house keys. What greeted her was the strong smell of smoke, presumably from one of her parents taking up on their nicotine dose earlier. Everything looked so messy, with the tattered sofas misaligned and everything else placed in the wrong areas. There were plates on the couch, a pan on the bookshelf, and several steel glasses scattered on the floor.

The aftermath of a long fight.

Frisk took it upon herself to leave her backpack in her room and clean the mess her parents made last night. As soon as she stepped out of her school clothes (to a clean striped sweatshirt and a pair of pajamas), she grabbed the broom that had a handle that was a bit taller than her and started sweeping.

She was extra careful when sweeping up the tiny shards of glass. She pushed the couches with most of her strength back to their normal positions, and she dusted the bookshelves while standing on a monobloc chair. Frisk was tiny for her age, but she can do normal housework better than most of the kids in her neighborhood already.

While cleaning, she still thought of the Underground and tried to compare everything in the house to Home. The atmosphere of her house was definitely more desolate. The plastic plants that lay on top of shelves and beside old family pictures could not compare to the typha plants—water sausages—that were scattered throughout the hallways. Heck, even the mirrors and the shelves in Home seemed more welcoming than the ones they have now.

But then again, Frisk wondered if the bad perception of her own house furniture were connected to the bad events that happened. She remembered cowering beside the shelf when Dad lost his composure. She remembered hiding under the couch when Dad kicked Mom on her stomach because of a mistake Frisk made. She remembered staring at the mirror in the bathroom trying to hold back tears, because she wanted to be strong for her broken mother, who was trembling and crying and hiding—

She remembered. Frisk started to shake, and she felt her own heart hammering against her chest. She stepped down from the chair and sat down instead, grasping the broom handle with all her might. The handle kept her grounded. God, she was shaking so much now.

Frisk took a deep breath and closed her eyes. No, she will not breakdown right now. Mom and Dad could return any moment now. They would not want to see Frisk like this. After all, she had been praised for ‘being such a strong girl’ since they have ‘never seen her cry’.

Only if they knew how much she had been crying her eyes out in school. Or in her bedroom. Even in the Underground. It seemed so ironic that the strangest of monsters have already seen her weep more often than her own parents.

Frisk decided that she was done cleaning for the day. She didn’t have any appetite too, so she went back to her room to make a note that she doesn’t want to eat dinner.

Her mother understood whenever Frisk lost her appetite. Most times, she would have the same feeling too. Her father didn’t complain. The more they do lose their appetite, the more money they would save in a year.

Technically, it was a win-win situation. Frisk posted the note outside her door and gently closes it.

Now that she was just in her room, she felt the want to just go straight to her bed and sleep. She rounded her stuff toys in her arms once more and covered herself with her blankets. She took one last look at her window, in which she saw the sun setting down slowly into the deep blue ocean near Mt. Ebott. The birds were singing a soft tune before they fluttered away for the evening. The trees’ leaves were gently swaying to the beat of the wind.

It was peaceful, if only for a moment. Frisk knew that this kind of serenity would be gone when her parents arrive. And she took in everything beautiful in that scene, before she slowly drifted off to sleep.

* * *

There was something called ‘eternity in a moment’, in which it means that something felt like it went on forever, even though it only lasted for mere seconds.

That’s what Frisk felt during the entire process of sleeping. It felt like it took an eternity to wait in the darkness for something to appear that would lead her back to the Underground. She waited… and waited… and waited.

As she lingered around in the still nothingness, she sensed that the darkness felt weird. It seemed like it was… alive, in a way. It wasn’t just the existence of nothing, but it definitely felt like the blackness was undulating. Swaying… and… engulfing her?

She lifted her arm and she saw the darkness clinging to her skin. In a panicked moment, she froze, watching in silent horror the events and the darkness unfolding in front of her.

She had to get out. She had to wake up.

_Help._

With determination surging through her veins, she wished that she could find a way to stop the void from eating her. She wondered if there was any way out.

And there she saw it. A bright, yellow star pulsing in the distance.

Frisk pushed her way through darkness, and she did so with the fiery desire to escape. The star was getting closer now, and as she touched it—

_“My child, to which light were you pertaining to?”_

A familiar voice. A familiar sound. The world was so blurry that Frisk’s head started to swim. Her head hurt.

_“My child…”_

Oh, it was starting to be clearer now.

Frisk opened her eyes, and she was surprised to see Toriel looming over her with wide, perturbed eyes. She reached her huge paws to Frisk’s cheek, gently wiping non-existent dirt from it.

“Are you all right?”

Frisk can’t believe it. She was back. Toriel was here. It really is the Ruins. Never in her whole life had she been so happy to see the familiar rubble of several destroyed structures. She was so excited to see the Whimsun fluttering by with its wails. Frisk looked up at Toriel with a smile that reached her eyes, similar to the ones shown by her classmates in the playground.

She was _so_ happy to be back.

Toriel giggles. “You must be hungry if you are starting to see stars. Come inside our home, child. It is getting rather chilly in here.”

The door to the huge house was pushed wide open, and Frisk excitedly bounced inside. Though she had never fully explored the house yet, having only seen the hallways and the foyer, she was glad to see the furniture that were larger than she ever was. Toriel grinned at the sight of her new child pacing happily around.

“Do you smell that?” Toriel started.

Frisk turned her attention to her. Frisk sniffs all around, and she beamed when she caught a whiff of something _good_. She knew what it was, but she only settled for a nod to answer.

“Surprise! It is a butterscotch-cinnamon pie.” Toriel said. “I thought we might celebrate your arrival! I want you to have a nice time living here.”

 _Mhmm_. Frisk would definitely have a _great_ time staying.

“So, I will hold off on snail pie for tonight.”

Toriel laughed when Frisk’s eyes widened at the mention of snail pie. She understood the implication. “Do not worry, it does not taste as bad as it sounds. I have heard humans have also relished in snail delicacies. I trust that you know of escargots?”

Frisk hated escargots. Not that she had ever tasted one but seeing the spelling itself had already made her want to vomit. Knowing that escargots were actually snails made her despise it more. She nods in spite of her own sentiments.

“Excellent. In any way, that is not something that you should worry about now.” Toriel said, and she headed to the east hallway. “Here, I have another surprise for you.”

Intrigued, Frisk followed her. Toriel, before proceeding further, took Frisk’s hand once more. Warmth spread through Frisk’s heart, and without protest, she lets her lead them to the first room in the hallway.

“This is it!” With pride, Toriel looks at Frisk. “A room of your own. I hope you like it!”

Frisk was about to say _thank you_ when she felt Toriel’s hand ruffling her hair. She was taken by surprise, but it was a welcome one. Never in a million years would she have thought she would get one. She tears up by this gesture, and she opens her mouth to say something—

“Oh dear.” Toriel gasps. “Is something burning? Um. Make yourself at home!”

She runs to the kitchen, leaving Frisk agape.

Frisk wipes away the tears forming from her eyes before it fell. She reached for the door handle and stepped inside the room, in which she was greeted by a comfortable bed (it looked very jumpable!), a nice lamp that radiated soft orange light, a shelf filled with thingymajigs, and a closet.

Tired from the whole darkness thing, Frisk eyed the bed with much interest before settling on it. She would explore the rooms and check the objects around later. Right now, the bed looked inviting, calling her to rest herself for a while before a long journey ahead.

Now, this was Home. She felt safe. Wanted. Calm. Knowing that she won’t hear the shriveling screams of her parents in a while, she was filled with quiet determination to nap.

Her silent breaths were the only sounds in the room, and it sent her to sleep.


	5. Heartache

It may be the first time in a while that Frisk woke up feeling refreshed.

She didn’t feel heavy bags under her eyes, nor did she feel any resemblance of pressure to get ready for any sort of agenda for the day. The same view greeted her—calming orange walls, a slightly used quilt blanket over her, and an assortment of objects to her right. This wasn’t the surface, and Frisk sighed in relief.

As if making its presence known, the scent of butterscotch-cinnamon pie wafted through her nose. It was definitely sweet and rich—just enough to make her want to save it for a while. Little bits of the pie were scattered around the edges of the plate, and Frisk decided to taste it. She slid down her bed and crawled to where the plate was on the floor and helped herself to the small serving.

_Oh!_ It was chewy yet soft. There were hints of tangy, savory tastes because of the cinnamon, but it had complimented so well with the sugary flavor of butterscotch. If only she didn’t feel that full—she would have devoured it right then, and there. She was content with the idea of putting it away for later.

She didn’t give it that much thought, but somehow, the butterscotch-cinnamon pie disappeared as soon as she tried to stuff it in her pocket. Frisk decided not to question it because of convenience. It probably was a normal thing in the Underground. As long as she can get it again later, it wasn’t a big deal.

Frisk scuffled towards the inactive lamp at the other side of the room. She pulled the string down and the room brightened up, allowing her to see more of what was inside the room. It appeared that someone used it before her—a kid maybe, seeing the childlike drawings and the disparity of children shoe sizes in the chest.

It was interesting. The things inside the closet and the chest showed various signs of usage. Some looked relatively new: no dirt spots, wrinkles, or fraying threads. It’s like it was just there, waiting for someone to pick it up and use it for the first time. Some though, look like they’ve been through a mud track, rolled around in it, left the garment for a few days to dry, and brought it back. The colors look faded, like Toriel had tried her very best to get these stains out.

Under all those though, were some clothes that seemed to have the faintest hints of red stains. She wasn’t sure whether or not if it was just the light reflecting slight orange-red colors… or something else.

What if she took a closer look—

_“You are the future of humans and monsters.”_

Frisk froze, and everything else seemed to do that too. She dropped the article of clothing.

A low, deep voice resonated in her mind.

“Hello?” Frisk called out softly.

A thought crossed her mind, and it felt really silly. What if there was another monster under her bed? Not the Underground ones. Not the Moldsmals or Whimsuns, but the darkest, most gruesome ones that she had seen in films, with sharp fangs for teeth, flesh dangling from their cavities—

She took a deep breath and looked under.

Huh. A dust bunny. (Dust puppy? It resembled a Pomeranian.)

The lamp flickered for a short while, and though the reason didn’t stem from supernatural causes (only because the lamp was quite aged), Frisk stiffened and ran out of the room.

She held the doorknob tightly and closed the door as quietly as she could when she stood in the hallway. Nope. Nope. Nope. She wasn’t about to deal with that.

Forcing deep breaths, she wondered what the voice meant. Frisk was the hope… of humans and monsters? A ridiculous thought. She wasn’t even capable enough to stop her parents from fighting each other, much less be _that_ for the entirety of both races.

Maybe this was just her thirst speaking.

Yup. She needed water. But first, the rest of the hallway looked very interesting. Maybe some bits of exploring would help her calm her nerves down.

She set for the room next to hers but stopped to admire the tall plant that stood in between. It looked well taken care of. She had seen the plant before but can’t place what its name was. She continued on until she entered the next room.

It was a cool-toned blue room, and Frisk determined that it would very much be gentle and calm if it were to be a person. It very much screams Toriel—motherly and tranquil. The room was a bit larger than hers, and it stored more books than clothes. Upon closer inspection of the books in the cabinet, Frisk learned that the unknown plant was a water sausage—typha plants that didn’t need much tending. Somewhere in the room were scandalous sock collections and jokes that were very much of… a unique caliber. They were…definitely humerus. Ribbing through her funny bones.

Hah.

She exits the room feeling a bit lighter than a while ago.

Frisk walked further to the room that had a sign written “under renovations”. She tried to twist the doorknob but to no avail, and not wanting to further intrude, she instead focused her reflection to the mirror right beside the door.

Her reflection was crystal clear. Frisk could make out every scar, dirt, and grime that lie on her face. She was joyed to see herself though. The flaws didn’t matter. It’s Frisk. On the mirror. Smiling back at herself.

_It’s me!_

Having decided that it was finally enough for Frisk to wander around the hallway, she set towards the living room, hoping to find Toriel.

“ _You are the future of humans and monsters.”_

“Oh, my child! Awake already, I see!” Toriel greets from her large rocking couch. The fireplace was cozy and warm, and it looked very inviting. “Would you want to sit here with me?”

Frisk felt giddy, and so she sat on Toriel’s lap. Oh, she was massive! She doesn’t even cover all of Toriel’s thighs.

“What did you want, dear? Have you eaten the butterscotch-cinnamon pie that I set down for you?”

Frisk spurted out a small thank you before she told her about keeping it for later. She wasn’t hungry.

Toriel nodded before she launched into a tale of snails and their uses when Frisk said she didn’t need anything. Oddly, she was entertained and interested in the ways of how snails flip their digestive systems over time. Their anatomy, for such a small thing, was intricately complex.

She didn’t know how much time had passed until Frisk fell asleep again on her chest. Toriel had looked upon her so lovingly—she was an adorable human that definitely had to be taken care of. She wasn’t like the others. She carried her back to the room.

Days went by like this. Frisk would spend so much time with Toriel, may it be baking pies with her and roaming around the Ruins, or learning more about snails and… getting her to not go overboard with the puns.

On the third night that Frisk tried to sleep, she heard it again. The low, deep voice that resounded in her head. This time, it was louder. Urgent, like it wanted to tell her to get a move on.

“ _You are the future of humans and monsters.”_

She sat up straight from her bed and clutched her blanket. She had this feeling to get out of this area. To leave Home.

Though it didn’t bother her before, the stairs in the foyer that led downstairs now plagued Frisk’s mind.

_What’s down there?_

She didn’t feel any hint of sleepiness after the voice had bothered her, so she got up from her bed. Frisk figured that Toriel still wouldn’t be asleep at this time (were there clocks in the Underground?). If she would want to wander around, she would have to make it quiet, so she doesn’t disturb her from whatever she was doing.

Slipping out her door, she made a silent yet quick break for the foyer. The stairs leading down seemed to lead to a darker area, and though she wasn’t necessarily scared of it, it unnerved her all the same.

Frisk reached the end of the stairs. She wasn’t expecting anything, and yet the long purple hallway managed to surprise her for a bit. Hesitation to venture forth made her stay rooted to the floor for just a matter of seconds.

Curiosity began to fill her mind, and it was way stronger than her hesitation.

Before she can even reach halfway through though, Toriel had blocked her path. Eyes wide and seemingly panicked, the goat creature gently pushed Frisk backwards.

“My child. Why don’t you go back to sleep?” Toriel may not want to admit it to Frisk, but she looked very nervous. “You must have had too much of the pie I baked earlier so you had a sugar rush. Silly me!”

Without so much as room for argument, Toriel took Frisk’s hand and led her back upstairs. Frisk knew better than to go against her massive frame.

* * *

“What are you doing?” Toriel spoke with an annoyed huff. Frisk flinched, as it reminded her of her parents’ voices right before a full-fledged fight. “Don’t be so stubborn.”

Frisk understood why Toriel was annoyed though. It had been the fifth time that she tried to sneak downstairs.

Before Toriel could hold Frisk’s hand and drag her back up again, Frisk decided to take a step back and meet her soulful, worried gaze.

Toriel’s dreaded question draped upon her like a dark stormy sky.

“Tell me how to exit the ruins.”

This time, Toriel found herself taking a step back. Heaviness settled in her chest.

“My child,” she started, her smile wavering. “What if we tried to bake a pie again? You could have as much as you want.”

Frisk shrunk a bit. As much as she wanted to stay, something about her leaving felt so _right_.

“Mom.” Frisk whispered. “Please.”

“W-We could dally with the other creatures for a bit!” Toriel continued, eyes going back and forth from Frisk to the stairs. “There are still a v-variety of games that we have not engaged in—”

Frisk tackled her to a hug, and though she was taking heavy breaths, presumably from stopping herself from crying, she asked once more.

“Please tell me how to exit the ruins.”

Toriel slowly pried herself away from Frisk, and her expression turned grave. Serious. Maybe even monotonous.

“Then if I may…” She trailed off. Toriel now knew what to do. “Please stay here. Do not follow me.”

Going further into the hallway, Toriel disappeared as she turned to a corner. Frisk followed.

“This is my final warning.” Her voice was firm. “If you know what is good for you, go upstairs.”

But to leave felt like it was the right thing to do.

Eventually, with more unheeded warnings and stubbornness, they reached the very end of the purple hallway. A door leading to somewhere was at the other end, and Toriel stood tall, blocking any chance of Frisk slipping through and getting away.

Toriel _will_ keep Frisk down here, no matter what.

“Every human that falls down here meets the same fate.” she said. “I have seen it, again and again.”

Frisk remained quiet.

“They come. They leave. They die.” Toriel looked away, eyes downcast. “You naïve child. If you leave the ruins… they— **Asgore** —will kill you.”

Something about Asgore’s name struck fear in Frisk’s heart. However, she stayed determined.

Toriel continued. “I am only protecting you; do you understand?”

In one last feeble attempt to make her go away, she pleaded. “Go to your room.”

…

“You want to leave so badly?” she huffed. “You are just like the others. There is only solution to this. Prove yourself…”

“…Prove to me you are strong enough to survive.”

The world around Frisk faded to black, a feat that is all too familiar to her. An encounter was coming, and she steeled her nerves before confronting Toriel.

Flames danced around Toriel’s large hands. The entire display fascinated Frisk, as something so gentle could possibly the cause of her potential death. Fire magic buzzed in the air, and the temperatures fluctuated as Frisk dodged every fire ball thrown at her.

Her energy wasn’t wavering despite the lack of sleep. Even so, she felt so _determined_ to prove Toriel that what she was doing was for the good of… something.

“You keep dodging each of my attacks, child. Where are yours?”

Frisk ducked under a huge pelt of flames. “I won’t hurt you!”

“Preposterous!” Toriel’s attacks became faster. “You will not last long! Outside of the confines of the ruins lay more monsters who will strike you dead!”

Spare.

“What are you doing?”

Frisk couldn’t think of any more conversation topics.

“What are you proving this way? Fight me or leave!”

Spare.

“Why are you making this so difficult?” The fire magic didn’t dare touch Frisk now. They were only falling to her sides. “Pathetic, is it not?”

“I cannot save even a single child.”

The attacks faded away, leaving Toriel and Frisk in a darkened room.

“I understand.” she said. “You would just be unhappy trapped down here. The ruins are very small once you get used to them. It would not be right for you to grow up in a place like this.”

Frisk’s eyes were filled with tears as Toriel settled on her own resolve.

“My expectations, my loneliness, my fear… for you, my child…”

“ _I will put them aside.”_

The darkness faded, and the sight of the purple room filled Frisk’s line of vision again. She had been so quiet in the entire exchange, but it was only because if one word cracks her voice, Frisk would start bawling. She would regret leaving.

Her own resolutions to not cry were the only ones that bugged her mind, to the point that she nearly didn’t pay attention to Toriel telling her that she wasn’t allowed to leave the Ruins anymore. Toriel had lowered herself to Frisk and gave her a final lingering embrace, one laden with so much love and joy and warmth. If only that could be kept in a jar, Frisk would have filled it to the brim.

Frisk felt Toriel loosening her grip on her, but she clutched Toriel’s deep purple robes tighter. In one deep breath, she managed to say…

“…thank you.”

With one wordless look of appreciation, Toriel left when Frisk loosened her hold. The purple was now once again empty, and Frisk didn’t catch Toriel get one last glimpse at her.

In the silence of it all, Frisk stared at the doorway that would lead her outside. Before further doubting her egress, she heard one final voice.

_“You are the future of humans and monsters.”_

In the distance, a golden star shimmered brightly. It pulsed unrhythmically, as if it was an urgent call for her.

_“Wake up.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally had a bit of a break from my tasks, and so I have returned with an update! Thank you for still continuing to read!


	6. Anticipation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: implications of exhibiting PTSD symptoms.
> 
> If you need any help regarding mental health, please seek professional help--it is not a matter to be taken lightly. Additionally, my AO3 messages are open if you need someone to talk to!

The early morning rays of sunlight touched Frisk’s face. It was welcoming and warm, as if waking her up gently from what seemed to be one of her longest dreams. After all, she had stayed in the Underground for three days in a row without returning to the Surface, and she could almost remember every single moment that she had spent there. How long was she asleep for?

As if perfectly timed, Frisk’s bedroom door was opened slightly. Her mom’s head peeked through the door; face morphed into a smile.

“Good morning, Frisk.” she said, her voice not above a whisper. “Breakfast’s ready. You didn’t eat last night, so I made _lots_ of pancakes for you today.”

Despite her mother’s face still showing that she was still calm and happy, Frisk had subconsciously started looking for signs of a recent fight. However, there were no suspicious marks and no red-tinged eyes.

When Frisk didn’t reply for a while, her mother only chuckled. “I suppose you are still sleepy. You seemed like you had slept soundly!”

The image of Toriel briefly flashed through her head. Frisk could only muster up the smallest hints of a smile in remembrance. She embraced her stuffed toy, Mr. Buttercup, tighter and looked towards her window. “I did.”

“That’s good to hear.” her mother replied, and if she wasn’t mistaken, it had a tiny twinge of wistfulness in it too. Her tone changed right after. “Just come down when you want to eat already, Frisky.”

Frisky. It was one of the words that she loved hearing from her parents. That nickname had almost always been used when they were feeling especially affectionate, and it made Frisk feel that she was absolutely loved. For a while, it made her forget all the bad memories that may have happened the night or the day before.

Frisky. Who knew that word could hold so much meaning to her?

With that name being used now, she wasn’t entirely sure how this day would go on; however, she had hopes that it would finally be quiet in the household.

The birds chirped a lovely tune, and Frisk focused more on the beauty outside.

The sky was beginning to become lighter, showing more of the light blue hues. Wispy clouds streaked over the sky, and the occasional V-formed flocks of birds would soar by. Frisk wondered what it would be like to fly, to go wherever she wished to go.

Mount Ebott loomed in the distance. If she were a bird, she would definitely visit Mount Ebott. She would descend down the hole and find the Underground once more. If she could, she would try to carry the monsters to the Surface with her, so they can live together.

It was an absurd idea. She loved it anyway.

Frisk pushed herself to freshen up and get ready for breakfast. Though it was a weekend, she still had early starts in the day to help her parents do chores and study. Their house is one heck of a mess, and it only gets messier during certain times.

Dang. Frisk truly hoped today would be peaceful. She brushed her hair for a bit before going downstairs.

* * *

You can only imagine her surprise and relief when Frisk was greeted with a smile. By her father, nonetheless.

“Frisky! Good morning!” He boomed with a huge grin plastered across his face. The atmosphere was relaxed. Too relaxed. “Come and take your breakfast plate.”

Frisk walked slowly towards the dining table, as if treading in caution. Of course, she didn’t let her careful attitude show through in case it might offend her parents, but still, she tried to act normal.

She took her normal spot in the dining table, and that was at the head of the table. Her father was at her right, munching away at the pancakes and waffles on his plate.

He hummed in appreciation as he took another bite. He said something to her mother—it was jovial in tone, and yet Frisk couldn’t concentrate on what he was saying. She was deep in thought, wondering what might have happened.

She should be happy. Her thoughts rammed at her for not matching the cheerful attitude that her Mom and Dad donned today. Despite the booming voices of cheer and the calm onset of the atmosphere, Frisk felt that everything felt _wrong_. The entirety of this situation felt like glass and eggshells piled at her feet—one wrong move and it will break. One misstep and it is back to the shouting, the fighting, and the tension.

Though Frisk was lost in thought, she absentmindedly placed a piece of her pancake into her mouth. Her movements felt mechanical. Yet she tried to act and gain a sense of normalcy as she still tried to process the situation.

She turned to her parents, who talked animatedly. They were laughing at something at the television. Frisk, as much as she did want to pull herself back to reality, could only stare in wonder and confusion at the things unfolding around her. Her parents may not be bothered about the past, but Frisk still was caught up in it. She could still remember it.

The shouts, the screams, the shatter, the blow—

Frisk stood up abruptly, her fork clattering against the plate. She felt lightheaded, and it felt as if she couldn’t speak at all. Her throat threatened to close up. It was such a horrible feeling, and she felt tears welling up in her eyes.

The sound she had made had startled her parents, but it was her mother that spoke up.

“Frisky? Are you okay?”

_The shouts, the screams, the shatter, the blow—_

Despite her throat narrowing itself down to non-existence, Frisk still tried to put on a brave face. “B-Bathroom.”

She rushed to the comfort room, clutching her stomach to pretend as if she had wanted to expel waste. Apparently, it worked, for neither of them questioned her sudden panic.

The bathroom door clicked shut, and she made sure that it was locked. She had opened the light and looked at herself in the mirror. Her hands were shaking terribly as she remembered—

_The shouts, the screams, the shatter, the blow—_

It was oh, so normal now, and yet why is she acting like this? Frisk’s frustration bubbled up inside her for not being able to appreciate the happiness.

_And yet the happiness felt so fragile, like it will all be gone in a few days. A few hours. A few seconds._

_The joy that comes in this household can only stay for so long. I can countdown the days with my two hands. Why can’t I stop crying?_

Frisk felt like she was in anticipation for something to happen. It had always been like that in Frisk’s household. It was an unholy routine. Dysfunctional. Broken.

She succumbed to her tears in complete silence—a skill she had learned early in her years. Her small body shook with each sharp intake of breaths. Frisk slowly slid down to squat on the bathroom floor.

Everything might have been okay now, but she wasn’t.

When had she ever been?


	7. Unnecessary Tension

“Frisk, will you please pass the ketchup?”

Frisk allowed herself another spoonful of cereal before getting the red plastic bottle to her right. As she munched, she glanced to her father, who ceremoniously drizzled his pile of chicken nuggets with the condiment as soon as he had gotten it from her.

It had been nine days since her breakdown, and things were seamless ever since. The days felt brighter, the grass greener, and Frisk could have sworn that she feels a bit of a spring in her steps. Of course, she had never forgotten what had happened in the past. It still lingered at the back of her mind, a subconscious thought that could never be flicked away.

Things were starting to be better now though. Frisk would relish the peace before the countdown to hell would begin once more.

“Oh no,” her dad began, snapping her out of her thoughts. “We’re going to be late!”

Frisk’s mother appeared at the doorway, holding her backpack. “First one to finish breakfast gets a kiss from me!”

Before Frisk can even swallow her cereal, she could see that her father was already wolfing down his food. A loud _clink!_ could be heard as the utensil touched the plate, and her father stood up with smug grin of satisfaction.

She could feel some kind of tension burning in the atmosphere, and it was something that she was not definitely used to. _That_ was what motivated Frisk to gulp down every last drop of milk as fast as she could before she would be subjected to an unwarranted view of various displays of affection.

“I’ll be in the car!” Frisk called back as she grabbed her backpack, dashing to the front door.

The slamming sound of the car door relieved Frisk, and she sunk down low on the seat as she released a long and heavy sigh. Yup, things were definitely starting to be better if her parents are starting to be comfortable with touches. Their moods are rising, and their voices were not at an all-time high. Good vibes all around.

Maybe she should ask them if they could have a picnic somewhere when the weekend arrives. The thought made Frisk giddy and lighthearted, and she sat up again, looking past the window to her right as she wondered where they could have that activity.

Her sights settled upon the massive outline of Mt. Ebott. The mountain looked very regal in its own right, and it was definitely blessed with the abundance of flora. Frisk had never set foot on the mountain before, and the thought of exploring it with her parents sounded nice.

She wondered if Toriel could somehow appear too. How would her parents react around the gigantic monster?

Preoccupied with her thoughts, Frisk hadn’t noticed that her father had entered the car too and had started its engine. As the car veered away from the driveway, Frisk felt that the mountain was somehow watching her.

A small cold shiver made its presence known on her spine.

* * *

The sounds of heavy dragged footsteps reverberated through the halls, and the musty smell of _everything_ started to bother her slightly. She had never noticed this before, and Toriel only did when she pointed out to Frisk that she wouldn’t be happy growing up in the Ruins.

Indeed, the Ruins were small once you had acquainted yourself with it after a certain amount of time. The puzzles were no longer a thrill to her; it had been a long time since they were last recalibrated. Even though she could do that, what would be the point if she knew the solution to that as well? The other monsters were not exactly particular with the puzzles. After all, they never left their areas. If they had to, they could just fly over it or swim through the water systems. It was only Toriel that had to weave through the catacombs via puzzle rooms, and she had half a mind to just remove it altogether by either disabling it or barbarically ramming it down with her fire magic.

But with its potential destruction came another dilemma, and it would be defiling the memories that this place held. Though the Ruins were her prison, she should not forget that it had also been her home once. It was where most of her precious and painful experiences took place. It was where she had loved and lived, and hated and died (at least, internally).

Asriel and Chara had roamed these halls a long time ago, and it had seemed like it only happened yesterday. Toriel can sometimes envision her small children running and playing around, and she can almost hear the annoying squeaks of the sneakers Chara had insisted to make. Her dearest child had never understood that monsters had enhanced hearing, and so it truly pained her to hear the sneakers roughly sliding against the floor.

But it was almost worth her and everyone else’s earache, because the smile that was painted on Chara’s face afterwards was too adorable for her own good.

Oh, how she missed her two troublemakers. Her kid and her adopted human child.

Toriel’s footsteps slowed down to a halt as she stared at the closed wooden doors ahead of her. She could almost imagine the tiny silhouette of Frisk trying to open it and passing right through. An ache burned in her chest.

Frisk’s resemblance to Chara was almost uncanny. Nearly the same facial features, and yet their personalities contrasted. Frisk was almost too quiet. Chara would not be able to stand being in a room without hearing her own voice.

Though they differ, another similarity they shared was the love and favor that they had gained from Toriel. A mother’s love was what she gave them, and yet…somehow, both of them were not with her anyways.

That was another thing to add to the list of their similarities.

Toriel was not sure how long she stood before the wooden door, and she would not have cared anyway—she did not have anything else to do. But a knock on the door made her self-aware, and for a slight moment, she had thought it was Frisk.

A voice emerged from behind the wooden egress.

“knock, knock.”

A slight flutter of relief and excitement bloomed in her chest. It was him. She never knew the name of the voice beyond the door, but the familiar deep and playful voice was enough identity for her.

As soon as she was in exile for not… being enough for the entirety of monsterkind, she vowed to herself that she would not establish any kind of contact from the outside. Company from the Ruins would be enough, but even then, she would not mingle with the Ruins dwellers too much. After all, this was punishment for losing both her children and husband. She was here to repent and not for a fanciful vacation.

But when she heard the knocks one fateful day behind the door and the silliness of the jokes that came after each knock… she could not help it. She had been far too lonely. She was drowning in grief and she was sure that she would lose herself too, following after the footsteps of those she loved most.

She had to answer.

“Who is there?”

“dishes.”

“Dishes who?”

“ _dishes_ a very bad joke.”

And before she could stop herself, she let out a hearty laugh. She laughed like there would be no tomorrow, like it was the best joke she had heard in the entire millennium she had lived.

It was a bad joke, but stars, it had been so long since she had ever been faced with humor.

The barrage of jokes had stopped though, and she froze. No, this entire thing was a mistake. She was here for a punishment. The person behind the door must have been very shocked too—after all, it might have been rumored that the Ruins was nearly empty. Of course, he would not have expected for someone to be there. He was not knocking with an expectation for someone to _answer_.

“Wait, please.” In spite of herself, she had to hear more. “If you are still there, I would like it if I could… hear some more.”

Who would have thought that knock-knock jokes of interesting calibers would be her saving grace?

And ever since then, Toriel would always be there to be the audience of his jokes.

Today was not an exception.

As always, Toriel said what always had to be said after the knocks: “Who is there?”

“etch.”

It was at this point when Toriel realized that she was not up for jokes this time. But she had answered anyway. “Etch who?”

“heh. bless you.”

Oh, this one was clever. She let out a small chuckle. The voice was silent for a while, and her laughter faded to quiescence. It must have been her turn to tell a joke because the waiting game was apparently on. But Toriel didn’t say anything. She was too busy staring at the door, where Frisk’s image was still burning in her mind.

_The poor child. My dear child._

“hello?” the voice called. “you there?”

Still out of usual self, Toriel nodded. She was greeted with more silence.

 _Oh._ The person couldn’t see the head gesture. She hastily corrected herself and let out a soft “yes.”

“what’s wrong?” he said, hints of concern lacing his voice.

 _Frisk_. She was all that she could think about at this moment. Was Frisk safe? Where could she be right now?

She could only wish to the stars that Frisk will not be… rended to shreds by _him_.

And that was putting it mildly.

Oh, Frisk. If only Toriel could watch over her as she traverses to the Surface.

An idea seeped through her head, pushing past the woes and the worries that swarmed every spare space in her mind. It seemed too much to ask to the person beyond the door, but she had to at least try.

“May—” she started. “May I ask you for a favor?”

“shoot.”

She had almost hesitated. Toriel was indeed asking too much from a person whose hobby seemed to entirely comprise of only making knock-knock jokes until nightfall. But the thought of sweet Frisk being sequestered to _his_ castle and doing the most unspeakable horror of all—

No. She had to do this.

“If a human ever comes through this door, could you please promise something?”

Silence. Toriel had expected some sort of outburst after the word ‘human’, but there was nothing. She took this as a sign to continue.

“Watch over her, and protect her, will you not?”

Now, the silence felt heavy. Toriel feels that the person may be contemplating on it now. Or maybe she had been imagining the heaviness of the atmosphere and the person may have just ran away… to tell the Royal Guard, or in fear.

A beat, and she had started to frown in worry—

“gee, lady. isn’t this a bit too much?”

She knew it. But before she can speak her reasons, he continued.

“i mean, i don’t even know your name. and despite just standing here and telling you knock-knock jokes all day, i… i have a… thing… that really doesn’t fit into taking care of stray humans like you would a kitten.”

Silence.

“but… if that human really means that much to you… sure. i’m bad at promises, lady, but since you laughed at my really bad puns and knock-knock jokes, and i can tell it was really sincere… i’ll try my best to honor it okay? i swear it on my sternum and ribs.”

Toriel thought that they were eccentric areas to swear on, but it was better than nothing at all.

Really, who would have thought that knock-knock jokes of interesting calibers would be her saving grace?


	8. Snowy

The school bell’s shrill ringing drowned out the last words of Ms. Agatha’s reminders, but Frisk couldn’t care less. During the entire hour of History class, Frisk had to summon every single bit of her willpower to resist making any sort of unnecessary movement. She couldn’t help it though. Frisk had made new friends earlier that morning, and she was _beyond_ excited to just go out and play with them.

It happened as soon as Frisk had gotten out of the car. Since they were nearly late again, she had barely gotten a good grip on her things before she stepped out of the vehicle. Ever the clumsy child, Frisk had also managed to trip over a non-existent object on the curb. _And_ she hadn’t noticed that her backpack was open all this time.

One could only imagine how Frisk could have possibly run out of luck this early in the morning.

Mentally scolding herself, Frisk had reminded herself to always check her things before leaving to school. Now she was going to be even more late trying to put back her things and dusting herself off. The principal absolutely disliked unclean and unkept uniforms. To be held back from classes because of her infamous lectures would be a nightmare that she would very much like to avoid.

Frisk was awfully close to groaning out loud in frustration. As she tried to pick up one of the five notebooks from the ground, a hand had reached out, carrying said notebook.

She was slightly taken aback, but she accepted it anyways. She looked up to three other children (a girl and two boys) getting her other things.

“Here, give me your backpack,” one of the boys said, collecting the other fallen things from his companions. “I’ll put them in for you.”

“You’re dirty too!” the girl exclaimed, looking at Frisk’s school blouse. “I’ll help you pat yourself.”

It was a spur of the moment and Frisk was really concerned with her punctuality. She would hate to see a single tardy mark on her report card. Dad would definitely be pissed if he had seen that abomination recorded. After all, he had very much tried to still take Frisk to school on time. Even though she didn’t know their names, she didn’t question them and just went along with it.

After moments of intense patting and her backpack securely zipped, Frisk was ready again to enter the school premises. They suggested to run to the school entrance, and it was when Frisk yelled out a ‘thank you’ after them.

“No problem! Let’s see each other at the playground at recess!”

They parted ways and they had entered their own classrooms, just in time to see the principal going out of her office and begin her daily rounds of inspection.

That was a close call, and Frisk was extremely thankful for them. Having remembered the offer to meet up at recess, she had begun to buzz excitedly, barely seeing Ms. Agatha enter the room, ready to start a new History lesson.

Back to the present, Frisk had immediately bounced off her chair as soon as she heard the slightest beginnings of the bell ring. Ms. Agatha didn’t mind the sudden movement and reminded the class of the History recitation test that was to be done next week.

“Goodbye and thank you, Ms. Agatha,” the class collectively said before rushing out of the room.

Seeing Frisk dash along with them made Ms. Agatha’s lips curl up to a smile. She was definitely doing better these days.

She hoped that it would last for longer this time.

Meanwhile, Frisk nearly tripped again as she ran to the playground. Thank goodness she had caught herself, or she would have gotten an unremovable stain from the barely wet Bermuda grass growing around the playground.

“There she is!” Frisk heard someone say, and she was delighted to see the three familiar faces on one of the playground kiosks. She gave out a bright smile and headed for their way. Needless to say, she was infinitely happy to find people she could chat with. Introductions were exchanged, small talk was made, and before Frisk knew it, she was already part of their circle already.

The same thing happened during lunch, minus the formalities and niceties. It was on to playing and more storytelling, and Frisk had profusely thanked Suzie, Chris, and Randy for their help earlier that day.

“No worries, Frisk!” Chris had said. “Glad to have been of help too, that’s all.”

“I’m gonna punch that principal of ours for being so strict with the rules!” Suzie harrumphed, crossing her arms. Frisk had learned that Suzie was a bit rash and… well, brash. She was sweet at times though. “Can you believe how _long_ she gives out her scolding?”

“Hey, no need to do that.” Randy sputtered. “She’s just… doing her job.”

“And then I’LL do my job by punching her right in!”

A collective groan. “Suzie, no.”

Before they all had noticed, it was dismissal, and they said goodbye to each other after meeting up at the school lobby. The three used the school bus service, and Frisk was left to wonder if she should walk home.

“Frisk!” someone familiar called from the school driveway. Frisk turned to the direction of the voice, and it was her Dad, motioning for her to get in the car.

Wow. That was a first in a long time.

Frisk went home humming a small tune with contented glee.

* * *

_“gee, lady. isn’t this a bit too much?”_

Now that he was thinking about it, Sans definitely thought it was a bit too much. He should be enjoying his time napping in his masterpiece of a sentry station. Or so he thought. His brother hadn’t approved his building style but had graciously went with it anyways. Papyrus was far too busy recalibrating and tending to his puzzles to admonish him on his handiwork.

_“i… i have a… thing… that really doesn’t fit into taking care of stray humans like you would a kitten.”_

He should have directly told her that he was volunteering as a sentry. Sure, he may not have qualities that would exactly fit the job description, but damn it. If there was an actual human roaming around, he was sure as hell that he would at least turn that kid over to Papyrus. Or maybe give them a piece of his mind. Whichever comes first.

It should have been easy to say ‘no’ at that moment. That’s what he had been doing most of his life after all. He deprived himself of so much things. He had rejected people a lot in life just to keep a safe distance from them. He allowed himself to succumb to near isolation and weakness just so his beloved brother could take the spotlight.

Ever since _that_ day, he had refused a lot of things and possibilities. It was basically second nature to him now—an instinctive response to most things in his life.

So, _why didn’t he just say no?_

Sans buried his head in his fingers in deep contemplation. He wasn’t sure if this was something to be regretful about, but damn. The thought plagued him.

_Damn_.

Word of the day.

He could hear footsteps coming his way, and Sans was extremely sure that it wasn’t the human, because he could somehow identify people’s footsteps. This one was purposeful and near to stomping.

Sans didn’t budge anyway, and kept his position as is. Papyrus let out a loud groan. “Brother! Sleeping on the job! _Again._ ”

A huff.

“Hnngh. How are we supposed to know if a human would come our way? Perchance that the human would come and slip right through our fingers--!”

_Stomp!_

Sans could barely hear any more as Papyrus was reduced to a grumbling feat. But he was surprised when his footsteps were close to silent, and Sans could feel a slight shift of his jacket hood. He feels a slight tug as Papyrus gently puts it over his head.

“At least do not freeze to death while sleeping on the job, brother.” Papyrus said, in his rarest soft voice.

Papyrus had walked away, and when Sans feels that he wasn’t in his immediate vicinity anymore, he raised his head and placed his hand on his hood.

It was nice to feel loved, even if it only came from Papyrus.

This set Sans to a bigger argument with himself. This was torment. Sans loved his brother so much. Papyrus only has one goal in life aside from perfecting the recipes of spaghetti, and that was to be part of the Royal Guard. Papyrus dreamed to have power, to be popular and prestigious. And he could fulfill his dream by just capturing a human.

But then that would trump his promise to the lady. The mysterious, sincere, bad-joke-loving lady.

Sans sunk further in his station. Why did life have to be this hard?

What kind of brother would deny his sibling of attaining his hopes and dreams? Surely not Sans… right?

But what kind of person would also break a promise to one of his sincerest audiences in a long time? She has an integrity that he can’t exactly say ‘no’ to.

_Tch._ Some kind of judgment bringer he was.

Before he could rip his own skull to shreds, Sans stood up and glanced at the path that led toward the door. He could have a workaround for the meantime as he would further weigh his moral dilemmas and choices. Maybe he should hide first and watch the human for a bit. Yeah, that makes sense. If the human passing by the snow area was cool and chill ( _heh_ ), then the lady wins. If they were a jerk, then… Papy would win this round.

Yup. It definitely makes sense.

Sans headed for the pine trees, to the path of the Ruins.

* * *

Frisk had already changed out of her school clothes and into a similarly colored striped pajamas. Though it wasn’t nighttime yet (far from it actually, as it was still five in the afternoon), she thought that she could sneak in a bit of a naptime before her parents called her for dinner. When she was assured by her father that yes, she could sleep, Frisk had practically jumped to her bed and shut her eyes tightly.

She hadn’t forgotten the words that the mysterious voice had whispered to her a few nights ago. It was a lingering thought, one that she had not fully understood yet.

“ _You are the future of humans and monsters._ ”

With newfound determination to figure out why she was the future of both races, Frisk found it easier to return to the Underground.

It was almost instantaneous. The world around her had dissolved to a familiar shade of black, and she was faced again with the star that she had touched. Frisk tried to get her bearings again. She had passed through the wooden door. She had proven to Toriel that she was indeed strong enough to survive on her own.

In a moment of curiosity, Frisk turned back to try and push the huge wooden doors in hopes that it will budge open. Toriel was Frisk’s best mother figure, and she thought that maybe it wouldn’t hurt if she went back to her and steal a few minutes of warm hugs.

The door stayed shut as she pushed it with her shoulder.

With a sigh, she braced herself to move forward.

“Oh, look who’s here!”

That high-pitched voice could only belong to one particular person that she had recently met, and sure enough, standing in her way was Flowey.

“You really think that you can play goody two-shoes?” he sneered. “Really, just because you spared the life of a single person?”

Frisk didn’t know where Flowey was getting to, so she stayed quiet.

“Remember, it’s kill or be killed. You can keep this charade up for now. You can make friends with every monster that you meet. You can laugh, hug, and smile up to them all you want. You’re literally just a target waiting to be taken.” A smirk toyed on his lips and the playful tone began to switch to something darker.

“But what happens if the people you try so hard to win over tries to kill you? When you’re faced with so much anger, hatred, and darkness? Behind all the kind faces are scars just waiting to be free. Will you still spare them? Or will you finally relent to the world order? To kill?”

Flowey paused for a moment, peering at something in Frisk’s direction. Then suddenly, she was pulled to an encounter, and Frisk could only stare in panic at her crimson floating heart. Her soul. Will Flowey attack her again?

“Look at your soul,” Flowey said, entranced. “Bright red and very full of determination! One that surpasses even mine!”

A vine reached out to the soul, but it never touched. “But your soul is interesting. There’s something else that lingers with it. If you never truly gaze at it… it’s almost as if it is never there…”

Frisk tries to look harder at her soul. But really, she can’t see anything else but the glow that radiates from the heart and—

The confrontation ended, and both of them are back again at the darkened room with the wooden door. Confusion had taken over Frisk. What was with her soul?

“It really is interesting,” Flowey whispered. “Really, when can you keep up the façade that you are fine? When you’re really not?”

Before Frisk could ask anything else, Flowey dove back to the earth and everything was silent once again. She hadn’t gained ANYTHING from that conversation, except for the fact that there may be something else in her soul.

It would be a waste of time if she tried to just stand and think about it. Frisk headed for another doorway ahead of her, feeling colder and colder as she stepped closer.

Frisk was almost entirely convinced that she was back outside if it weren’t for the snow. The tall pine trees were as healthy and sturdy as the ones on the Surface. It was odd that it was snowing in the Underground, but Frisk was too preoccupied with her own thoughts to even question it more. She was also pretty sure that the answer to that would be magic.

Putting one foot in front of the other, Frisk had been trying too hard to remember what she had seen in the encounter. What was in her soul that struck as particularly interesting to Flowey? She could almost pout in frustration, if not for the sudden feeling that someone was watching her.

Frisk looked back, but there was nothing else than her own sets of footprints and the snow-covered pine trees. And snow. Let’s not forget about that.

Shaking off her seemingly irrational gut feeling, Frisk shook her head too and continued to walk towards a weirdly shaped wooden structure ahead of her. She stepped over a fallen branch and tries to rein her thoughts in—

_Snap!_

She squealed in surprise at the sudden noise and wheeled towards the sound. _What on Earth was that?_

The branch that she had stepped over on was split in two.

If there was _anything_ that Frisk truly hated, it was horror movies. Growing up in a religious family, that certain mindset was already ingrained in her. But even though she had tried to at least understand and explore that genre, she will never understand why it was so appealing to people—not when she was constantly close to peeing her undies and had constantly covered her eyes and eventually cried when things got too scary.

Did Frisk want to cry? Yes. Was she scared out of her wits? Most definitely.

She tried to speed walk ahead as fast as she could while trying to place her feet over the snow. Her tiny feet felt _freezing_ cold, but she will _not_ succumb to the frost if a horror movie scene were about to unravel in her eyes.

Frisk reached the base of the wooden structure (which, apparently, were bars of wood placed far apart from each other), and before she could take another step…

“ _Human._ ”

She winced. This is it. Her demise. She should have watched the rest of the horror movies for tips on how to survive this thing.

“ _Don’t you know how to greet a new pal?_ ”

Frisk was shivering in her boots, and she knew that it was not just from the snow. Holding back panicked tears, she slowly turned around to look at…whoever her new pal was.

A skeleton in a blue hoodie, white shirt, black basketball shorts, mismatched socks, and pink fluffy bunny slippers.

If Frisk weren’t terrified to death right now, she would have grinned at the entire ensemble. But no. A skeleton with that kind of voice donning pink fluffy bunny slippers was something that she was really scared of right now.

The skeleton reached out his hand, and Frisk, not knowing what to do, took his hand and tried for a firm grasp—

_PFFFFT._

Frisk retracted her hand in shock, and she could barely register the giggling skeleton.

“heh. the ol’ whoopee cushion in the hand trick.” the skeleton grinned widely. “gets ‘em every time.”

Frisk had to admit it, she was a not feeling terrified to death. Only _just_ terrified now.

“let’s start over, shall we? the name’s sans. sans the skeleton.” Sans held out his hand again, but this time, Frisk looked at it closely to ensure that there were no hidden whoopee cushions or zap rings hidden. Sans chuckled.

“come on, kid, masterminds don’t use the same trick twice.” Sans said. “i’m clean.”

Another suspicious stare.

“you aren’t going to leave me hanging here, won’t ya?”

With a certain amount of caution, Frisk finally shook his hand too.

“My name is Frisk. Frisk the human,” she gave him a bright smile. “Nice to meet you, Sans!”


	9. Nyeh Heh Heh!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Just a quick note, I'll be changing the verb tenses from past tense to present tense (of course it'll be past tense when it's needed)! Thank you for your interest in reading Illusive Realities!

Papyrus is _loud._

Frisk remembers the time when she had gone with her parents to Japan on a cruise ship. She recalls the pristine white walls of the ship and the polished wooden floorboards. She had been so fascinated then—until the ship bellowed its deepest and most deafening horn as they departed.

Her mood felt like an entire pack of sour gumdrops after.

The memory crosses back to her as she stares at the taller skeleton. Frisk had been tagging along with the skeleton brothers since earlier, solving whatever puzzles that Papyrus threw in her way and stifling her giggles when he fumes in what seems to be mock frustration.

“THE GREAT PAPYRUS WILL NOT LOSE TO YOU, TINY HUMAN!”

Papyrus reminds her of the cruise ship. Pristine white polished bones and a shrill voice that could give the bellowing horns a run for its money. The only difference is that… she seems to be warming up to him. Papyrus stomps ahead, leaving Frisk to her own thoughts and Sans trailing behind.

They had just entered Snowdin Town. Frisk finds herself brightening up to the sight of a few monsters shuffling around the snowed-in streets and a few shops with warm and welcoming lights. A Christmas tree stands tall at the heart of it all, with presents mounting up on its feet. It feels like it’s the holiday season all year round, and she loves it.

“so, kid…” Sans starts as they walk leisurely to a mahogany cabin with a sign that just says SHOP. “you’re human. what made ya wanna go here? it’s not like the underground’s a popular vacation place or anything.”

She looks beside her, where Sans finally catches up to her slow yet steady walking pace. “Uh… actually, I’m not entirely sure why or how I got here either but…”

She can’t say that she’s dreaming, that she’d been using this entire fictional world for her own interest to escape the horrific realities that she’s facing every day. Instead, she recalls the first time she found herself in the Underground. Yellow flower beds, the Ruins, and the gaping mountain hole at the very top of its ceiling.

“…I guess I fell.” Frisk shrugs.

Sans stares at her for a little while longer before she gets distracted by the smell of something absolutely delicious wafting through the cold winter air. Frisk feels her own stomach rumbling aggressively, and apparently Sans must have heard it too. His stare moves down to her belly.

“sounds like your stomach’s h- _angry_.” Sans smirks, to which Frisk rolls her eyes in response.

“come on. you’re smiling.”

She lets out a string of giggles before skipping all the way to the shop. “Yeah, but it was kinda bad.”

Sans could only look at her in amusement as he trudges through the snow to follow her.

By the time that he is by Frisk’s side again, she was already nodding her thanks to the bunny shopkeeper and holding a steaming hot Cinnamon Bun. It has been the widely loved delicacy in town and it’s one of the things that makes Snowdin unique and warm. When Sans isn’t in Grillby’s chowing down fast food or gulping up all the restaurant’s stock of ketchup, one can be sure that he’s by the shop, munching on buns.

But then again, where else could everyone go for food? It’s not like there were a plethora of shops around.

It’s not like they have a _choice_.

Beyond the clouds that shower Snowdin with snow, he steals a glimpse of the looming mountain ceiling. His eyes shift to Frisk, where she happily bites off a piece of the still-steaming bun.

When one lives through the same routine every day and greeted with the same sceneries… Sans could only wonder how long that grin would remain on her face.

The sound of familiar strides catches Sans’s attention.

“BROTHER!!” In the corner of his eye socket, he sees Frisk flinch, ducking her head under her arms. _What was that about?_ “WHAT IS TAKING YOU SO LONG? MY PUZZLES HAVE BEEN READY TO GO AND—”

A sniffle.

“—I AM ULTIMATELY BUZZING WITH EXCITEMENT—!”

“bro.” Sans tries to interrupt, but oh, Papyrus had already begun his barrage of giddy monologues.

“—TO TRY AND BEST THE HUMAN WITH MY HONED SKILLS! **NOTHING—** ”

When Papyrus increases his voice on ‘nothing’ (sometimes, he wonders how that is even possible at times), he sees Frisk shaking behind the red box. The shopkeeper looks on curiously but minds her own business. Good.

“bro. as much as i would love to—”

“—AND NO ONE WILL TRUMP PAPYRUS IN HIS OWN GAME!”

Sans gives a stern ‘pap.’ before Papyrus pauses.

“WHAT IS WRONG, SANS?”

Giving Frisk a quick look, he widens his smile when he meets Papyrus’s concerned look. “the human was just taking a break, bro. i’ll take her to you when she’s finished the buns.”

“BUT—”

“come on, bro.” he pushes, bringing his voice down. “it won’t be a fair match if the kid isn’t at her best, yeah? you’d be more popular to monsterkind when they know that you, the great papyrus, captures the human with valiant effort.”

His chest tightens at what he said but doesn’t let it show. A wide smile remains plastered on his face. Frisk shakes more.

“WELL,” Papyrus replies, hesitation still very much apparent in his voice. “I SUPPOSE THAT IS TRUE. I SHALL NOT GO OUT WITHOUT BLAZING GLORY!”

“i’m pretty sure that’s meant the other way around, pap,” Sans says, relief flowing through him. “but you got the spirit. why don’t you go ahead while i accompany the human?”

“OH, I CANNOT WAIT!”

When Papyrus speed walks to the other direction, Sans turns his attention to Frisk, who still has her head buried under her arms. It looks like she was curling herself up to a ball, cradling her head and covering her ears.

“heya kid.” Sans squats down, tapping Frisk’s head. “are… are you okay?”

Frisk shakes her head, still looking down. She’s taking uneven breaths, with sniffles going about once in a while.

Was she crying? But she had been so quiet…

“pal. buddy. look at me.”

Frisk shudders and she’s seems to be struggling for air. She takes a deep breath but another sharp inhale breaks through. Staggering breaths.

Sans inches to Frisk, and he gently places his hands over Frisk’s curled arms. “kid, you can’t breathe if you _air_ en’t giving yourself more oxygen to breathe. unless you have an oxygen tank under there or something, not gonna question ya if you do.”

It takes a long painful second to pass before Frisk finally brings her face up. It takes nearly all of Sans to not let discomfort show through his face, because yup, Frisk had been crying and it does not look pretty. (Sans chides himself. No one definitely looks pretty when crying, himself included.)

Her eyes were red, and tears flow down her eyes freely like the streams of Waterfall, minus the glowing crystals. She sniffles to keep her nose from running, but clearly it was a futile attempt because there were wet trails from her nose too. A shudder runs through Frisk again, and a sharp inhale follows.

“okay kid, listen to my breaths.” On cue, Sans starts breathing deep, inhaling through his… nose (?), and exhaling loud through his mouth. His does it three times more before steadying Frisk again with a gentle grip. “think you can do it with me?”

Frisk nods, eyes looking at somewhere and nowhere at the same time. That’s fine. As long as she’s responsive. Sans begins breathing deeply once more.

She doesn’t follow until the fifth breathing. When sharp inhales interrupt the cycle, Sans gives Frisk a gentle squeeze, grounding her to let her breathe normally again.

When the uneven breaths finally steady after what seems to be a _long_ time (probably just ten minutes, the sharp intakes of breath were still occurring but seldom now), Sans plops on the snow. Even though he doesn’t have muscles, he feels his legs cramping from the intensely long squat ( _lactic acid produced by his muscles as it undergoes anaerobic cell respiration,_ he tells himself).

“well buddy,” Sans says, rubbing his cramped-up leg. “you feel better?”

Silence.

He sighs. “you don’t have to tell me what triggered that, but i just want to know if you’re okay.”

If he hadn’t been paying attention, he could have missed Frisk’s subtle nod.

“…I hate loud noises.”

Sans was slightly surprised when she spoke, but he gives Frisk a soft smile when she looks his way.

“kid, i’ll never know what you’re feeling—it must really suck to have these kinds of triggers when the world is loud…”

Lies. That’s what it feels like on his mouth. How would he know how the _world_ is like when his own world always had that same calming, quiescent atmosphere? But as he’s trapped here in the Underground, along with all of monsterkind, he could only guess that humans were loud. Violent. That’s what made them all trapped here, right?

Of course, he never tells her the latter.

“…but, i believe you can get over these, alright? these triggers? they’ll just go away when you’ve learned to heal. it’s kind of a backwards healing kiddo. it goes away when you know first how to overcome it.”

Hypocrite. He’s never found his own healing process.

“i’m here for you though, buddy. we’ll get through this together. hang in there, okay?”

He wishes he had someone too.

The small pep talk seemed to do the trick. When Frisk nods to what he said, it’s accompanied this time with a smile. Sans feels oddly accomplished, and the smile on his face feels more genuine now.

“ready to face one more bout of puzzles?”

Frisk rubs her face with her sleeve, and the tear trails wipe off within a few attempts. Sans stands up once he’s sure that the cramps on his leg were ebbing away.

“you don’t have to leave immediately kiddo, but uh, pap is waiting—”

A hug completely cuts off Sans, and he feels that he just wants to shrink back. But the tight grip around his ribs didn’t allow him to do so.

“you know, i didn’t know you’d _embrace_ our friendship this quickly, buddy.”

He feels Frisk shake, but he’s very much sure that it isn’t from another round of sobs. He hears a soft giggle. “feels like you have me _wrapped_ around your finger already.”

She tried.

A familiar voice makes Frisk break the hug, and she sees the bunny shopkeeper wave her over from the side. “Hiya, before you go, take this!”

Frisk walks over to the shop, in which the shopkeeper hands her another Cinnamon Bun, fresh from the oven, it seemed. Her eyes widen at the sight, then meets her eye.

“But you said you didn’t have any more buns!”

The shopkeeper smiles and leans over the counter to ruffle Frisk’s hair. “What’s the harm in making one more? Take it, sweetie. It’s on the house. I hope you’re feeling better!”

With grateful smiles and profuse ‘thank-you’s, they finally leave the area to get to Papyrus, who was waiting for them on the other side of town.

“you really okay now kiddo? you seem to enjoy the bun very much.”

“Yeah!” Frisk ecstatically says, having another bite. “This is so good!”

“you know, i have never _cinnamon-_ ster bake buns that good before.”

She lets out a squeal before laughing. “But the spider bakesale makes pretty good spider donuts!”

“i know, but the pun wouldn’t work if i didn’t say that.”

“Okay then,” Frisk says. Companionable silence forms between them for a while before she decides to speak up again.

“Thanks, by the way. I feel much more stable now.”

Before Sans could say anything to that, they both hear a distant _nyeh heh heh_! Frisk completely turns her attention to Papyrus, whose scarf was waving to the side.

She dashes off to the human hunting fanatic, and Sans could only look at her as she hyper-skips to the new puzzles Papyrus has set. Whatever he wanted to say was completely forgotten by her, but it’s fine.

Because he doesn’t know how he would mention to her the time that he felt she was phasing out of existence for seconds at a time—that as he held her arms to keep her steady, there were times his hands went right through her and it was as if she was a fading mirage. A fog. An echo of her physical body.

It was like Frisk was there, but at the same time, she wasn’t.

He shakes off the fleeting fear and uncertainty that's settling in his chest as he catches up with his brother and Frisk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back from a long break! Even though it's quarantine, things are quite hectic and busy on my end. I'm about to graduate from high school two weeks from now and will be applying to colleges for the next few days, so I'm not sure if I can update soon.
> 
> Rest assured that I will not abandon this fic! Even though I may not update for a few weeks at a time, I'll still come back here to update. Since vacation is almost here though, I hope I can publish in between a few days.
> 
> To all the graduates reading this, congratulations! I hope everyone stays safe! Reviews are still very much appreciated.


	10. Small Shock

“I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, ADMIT THAT YOU ARE THE GREATEST FRIEND THAT I HAVE EVER GONE ON A DATE WITH!”

“But I am your _only_ date!”

“IT’S OKAY, YOU CAN HAVE THAT TITLE FOR NOW.”

Frisk enthusiastically bounces on Papyrus’s surprisingly springy bed. Papyrus watches from a distance (just by his closet), quite relieved that she’s okay despite his apparent rejection to her undying and oh-so-passionate feelings about him. Though he may not love Frisk romantically, he is quite sure that he is content to just spend time and play with her.

He picks up the used spaghetti plate from his table of well-maintained and meticulously arranged action figures to place it in the kitchen. Frisk stops her hyped-up bounces when he exits.

She figures that it must be time to Save again and return to the surface. She knows that the yellow star awaits her near the Shop and beside the red box. Though it was quite nice staying here, and though she wishes that she could stay in this odd yet tranquil place forever, Frisk knows that it is time to go.

Exiting Papyrus’s room, she takes one more look around the skeleton’s décor. Maybe she’ll move around her own room’s furniture to match his bedroom.

When she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she hears Papyrus washing dishes. Frisk is still astonished at the height of the sink and wonders if Sans could reach it when he washes his hands. She shivers and unconsciously touches the spot on her arm where Sans held her.

Does he _ever_ wash his hands?

Frisk dismisses the thought and calls to Papyrus as she heads straight to the door.

“Papyrus? I’ll be heading to the box that’s near the shop for a while!”

No response. He must have not heard her over the sounds of china plates clanging against each other and the rushing water from the faucet. She leaves anyway, making sure that the front door is indeed closed. It would be a pain for Papyrus if he finds stray snow all over their carpeted floor.

The residents of Snowdin seemed very welcoming. As Frisk heads to the Shop, monsters of various…anatomies greets her. She enthusiastically waves back in return, even chatting up to some of them.

“We don’t have our own justice systems here. When bad things happen, a skeleton reports it to a fish lady, hehe. That’s politics!”

“You know, the lady over there gives me the creeps and I don’t know why. But she’s just walking her pet rabbit. Think you can talk to her?”

“Yo! You’re wearing stripes too! You must be a kid because everyone knows that only kids wear stripes!”

Frisk mentally takes note that there’s some kind of dress code in the Underground. Steve from Blues Clues wears stripes. Does that mean he’s a kid too?

Even from afar, the yellow star catches Frisk’s eye, but she isn’t in a hurry to go and touch it. Not really. With the slow and tiny steps taken and many other stops to chat with the passersby, it may buy her time to just stay—

Sharp pain racks the entirety of Frisk’s body. Her eyes widen and her knees buckle, but she catches herself with her stretched out arms before she fell face first in the snow. What is happening? Panic creeps to her chest, and she frantically looks over to the bright star.

Does anyone see this? She calls for help.

Something pulls her backwards and she is very sure that it isn’t done by someone. It feels as though she is being pulled by a tornado. By a gaping vortex. Like a black hole.

She’s getting pulled once again and she tries to dig her fingers in the snow. God, that’s painful. Her fingers are growing numb from the freezing temperatures, but she holds on for dear life. It isn’t very effective. She leaves claw-like marks on the snow as she’s being pulled again.

“Help!” Frisk cries. She is confused. Why is no one helping her?

The pulls become stronger and Frisk starts to lose her grip on the ground. Before she gets sucked into the invisible force, she sees everyone frozen. Not by ice, but… they’re unmoving. As still as statues that she had seen in monuments around Ebott. Like trees on a windless day.

When she gets sucked in, she didn’t have to process all of it.

She wakes up suddenly on her bed in the surface, sitting up as she takes uneven breaths once more.

Bewilderment crosses her mind. How and why is she able to return to the surface without the star—?

The sound of shattering glass breaks through her thoughts, and that gives her a faint idea that could be the answer to her question.

“YOU’RE ALWAYS LIKE THIS, YOU TALK TO ME AS IF I’M NOT YOUR OWN SPOUSE!”

Dad. A muffled voice emerges from behind her bedroom door.

“…but you’re taking this the wrong way, I just said—”

“YOU—!” Crashing sounds that’s suspiciously like chairs being thrown were heard, and Frisk’s heart starts pounding hard.

She can barely feel herself. Her throat is closing up in absolute terror, and her legs are numbing from the toe up.

_This is bad. This is really bad._

_I have to do something._

Her mind screams in protest to go out of the room to intervene, to yell at them to just _stop_ before everything would go to hell. She _needs_ to break the tension, the chaos—

But her fiery determination never came. She only senses the crippling horror that freezes her in her place. She stares in shock at the door as the uproar of her father becomes worse by the second.

_Frisk, do something!_

_But I can’t move._

_I can’t breathe._

_I can’t._

The shriek of her mother sends her guts pummeling down, and it sets her to motion.

“Dad!” Frisk cries, throwing her door open to head down the stairs. “Dad, stop it!”

More screams from her father. “I JUST FUCKING ASKED YOU WHAT THE SLIPPERS WERE FOR, AND YOU—YOU BITCH—YOU JUST _PROTESTED_ THAT THEY WERE YOURS!”

Frisk halts at the middle of her descent. They were fighting over _slippers_??

“I just told you that they were mine—”

“YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO SOUND ALL SHITTY ABOUT IT!”

Frisk stares in horror as she witnesses her father grabbing a ceramic mug and flinging it to her mother—her poor, defenseless mother who looks just as pale as her daughter right now.

Sharp pains rack Frisk’s heart again as she sees her mother like this. Beads of sweat that definitely didn’t come from the heat of the weather dotted her face. She hunches over the couch to dodge the hurling mug, but it still grazes her head, and she wails in pain.

“YEAH, KEEP YELLING, WOMAN, ‘CAUSE THAT’S HOW I FUCKING FEEL!”

Frisk didn’t think twice. No—she didn’t even _think_. It was her instincts that made her fling herself toward her raging father, pulling his arm back to stop him from throwing another breakable object. To stop hurting Mom.

“Dad, please, stop fighting—” Frisk pulls his arm with all her strength, losing all hope when she feels her father pushing her away.

“STAY OUT OF THIS, FRISK, BECAUSE YOU’RE JUST AS CRAZY—”

He gives Frisk another push but she holds on.

“—AS YOUR—”

“Dad, stop pushing, it hurts—!”

_“— **FUCKING MOTHER!”**_

One final effort from Frisk’s father—he roars in anger as he wrangles his arm free from her daughter. It is free, but it came with a price.

Frisk’s mother wailed her husband’s name as he sends Frisk flying with his final push. In the mere seconds before she collided with their glass cabinet, betrayal and hurt consumes Frisk. The disbelief that her own father would tell her these horrible words and to do this very action made her want to tell herself that maybe _this_ was all a dream.

_What did I do to deserve this?_

Her back slams into the cabinet, and its glass doors break. She swears that she could even feel her ribs breaking in places, sending pangs of harsh aches down her spine. When she falls to the floor, shards of the glass pierce through her skin. One large fragment that’s settled on the floor sinks in the back of her neck.

The last thing she feels is the searing pain from all of this.

The last thing she sees is the conflicted expression her father’s face.

Her mother cries her name out in pure anguish and torment. And dang, that felt so painful to listen to.

She’s almost grateful when the darkness claims her once more into its arms.

* * *

“did you have nice date with her, pap?”

Sans begins to get comfortable on the couch as he arrives home from one of his odd jobs. At Papyrus’s insistence, he left just before Papyrus and Frisk’s date to man one of the Royal Guard sentry stations just in case another human passes by. One that’s meaner and, well, a spaghetti and puzzle hater.

Papyrus’s words, not his.

“YEAH! EVEN WHEN I SAID THAT I COULD NOT RETURN HER FERVID AND PASSIONAL FEELINGS TOWARDS ME, SHE TOLD ME THAT WE WOULD STILL BE FRIENDS!”

Sans chuckles. He raises his feet on the couch.

“SANS! I HAD JUST CLEANED THAT!”

“oh, sorry bro.” Sans puts his feet back down and smells the armrest. “you must have had a _chair_ -iffic time washing this.”

“BROTHER,” Papyrus groans, slamming his palm to his forehead. “THAT WAS UNWARRANTED.”

“what, have i gone _sofa_ -r with my puns this time?”

“ _TOO_ FAR, SANS!” Papyrus corrects, annoyance lacing his voice. “YOU USED THE WRONG WORD!”

“eh, well, it wouldn’t work with my pun.”

Papyrus lets out a groan and does an about-face to head to the kitchen. Sans smiles fondly when he turns his back. He grabs the joke book by the coffee table and flips to a certain page.

Not looking up from the text, Sans tries to make conversation. “so, where did frisk go?”

…

He flips to another page. Did Papyrus not hear him?

“pap?”

When silence fills his ears again, he looks up from the book and finds Papyrus still in his about-face position. One of his feet is still in mid-air.

“that’s weird.” Sans mumbles to himself, then makes his voice loud. “pap.”

Silence. No movement.

He stands up from his seat and taps Papyrus. For a second, he thinks he hears someone else calling for help outside. But Papyrus has all of his attention as of now. The Snowdin residents can handle whatever that was.

“pap, bro, are you okay—”

Suddenly, Papyrus stomps his foot down and finishes the about-face, and that makes Sans take a step back. “I WILL HEAD TO THE KITCHEN TO AVOID YOUR HORRIBLE PUNS.”

Sans narrows his eyes in confusion. Did he really not hear what he said? And did he really pause for a minute in that position?

“pap.” Sans calls again, and Papyrus looks back. His tone was quite serious this time, but a smile remains on his face. “didn’t you hear me?”

“OH, I HEARD YOUR TERRIBLE JOKE, ALL RIGHT.”

“no,” Sans pauses, testing the waters. “i asked you a question.”

“OH.” The taller skeleton scratches his head in a vain attempt to remember. “I’M SORRY, BROTHER, BUT I THINK YOU HAVE TO REITERATE YOUR INQUIRY.”

“i just asked you where frisk was.”

Papyrus saunters to the kitchen, and Sans follows him. “SHE MENTIONED THAT SHE WAS HEADING NEAR THE SHOP. SHE MUST HAVE VISITED THE BOX.”

“ok.” Sans relaxes a little but keeps his guard up. The entire thing with Papyrus was still odd. “are you okay though, pap?”

“ONLY A BIT BEFUDDLED SINCE YOU SAID THAT YOU ASKED ME A QUESTION AND I DID NOT HEAR. IT IS UNUSUAL FOR THE GREAT PAPYRUS TO MISS SUCH DETAIL.”

“i know, bro.” he replies. He then remembers the sliver of sound he heard earlier, the call for help made by someone earlier. “hey pap? i’ll just check something outside.”

He doesn’t wait for his response and immediately teleports outside.

Snowdin is still peaceful as ever. The great Christmas tree stands proudly as ever, and the monsters that were shuffling about were still in a calm state. No sign of someone frantically calling for help, or panic ensuing from any point.

Huh. He must have imagined it.

These confusions and small shocks are getting the better of him these days.


	11. Mysterious Place

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I reverted back to the past tense! I had a lot of people messaging me that it was a bit hard to read it in the present tense. Thank you for all your feedback!

_Shit._

Frisk couldn’t see anything. Or feel. Or hear.

It was just the familiar sight of the darkness that welcomed her, and it made Frisk numb and senseless.

As if the dark made her feel that way in the first place.

Realizing that she had just cussed in her head, Frisk let out a mental squeal. As much as she didn’t want to use the same words her father used ever so frequently in the family arguments, it still was the first word to pop up in her head. Oops.

Frisk was about to chastise herself more when she hears a soft, deep rumble.

“ _That is a bit of a strong word for someone your age.”_

Even though Frisk was motionless and merely floating in the vast nothingness, she did her best to still freeze. Was there someone here?

“ _However, with the recent events that have transpired, I would not say that it is uncalled for. In all actuality, the expletive is appropriate for the situation.”_

Frisk couldn’t feel her mouth. She can’t speak.

_“You cannot talk because you still have your physical essence. Such phenomenon does not allow you to communicate with… me.”_

A pause.

_“But I do think that you would be able to if you stay here for much longer. The void will consume you. I do not recommend that you stay here just to get the ability to speak. The Underground still needs you, child. Though not in the way they expect help to come.”_

The curiosity of the identity behind this voice buzzes Frisk’s mind. Though the pain and the ache sears at the back of her head, she desired to still know who carries the soothing voice that seems to be a contrast to the freezing darkness.

_“It will be futile to know my identity, child. But I suppose in due time, you will come to know me. You will come to find me. You will come. You will not remember this brief interaction of ours, but I know that all this will return to you as you face your final decision.”_

Frisk glimpsed an infinitesimal speck of light. Even when it was smaller than the pinprick of a needle, it was still noticeable, like a drop of pure white paint on black canvas.

_“Your heart is troubled, child. You are entering a conflict that will decide the fate of monsterkind. It seems genuinely unfair that the welfare of one whole race rests on your shoulders, but it is fate. Your destiny. But for now, I offer you these words of comfort.”_

Frisk didn’t understand his words, whoever it may be. But she listened for more anyway.

_“Family is a complicated word. It offers safety. Security. Some may even consider the very word as home. But the same word can strike fear—the very opposite of what it is meant to be. And it is what I sense from you as I have mentioned it.”_

For the umpteenth time, Frisk froze once more. How did he know what she was feeling? Her heart was pounding in her chest as she remembered her parents. But they weren’t smiling in her memory. The image of her mother and father’s faces distorted in hatred, confusion, and hurt were in her mind.

_“Do not think that_ family _is only connected by bloodlines. Even those who have no relation to you can be your family. Child, a family is supposed to give you peace and comfort. They are the ones who you are supposed to run to when the world outside is horrible._

_“Find those who make you feel safe.”_

The light is getting stronger by now, and it is about the size of a basketball. Frisk’s turned her attention to it when a ray hit her eye as she pondered more on his words. The voice was still really smooth and warm. In a way, that made her feel safe.

Frisk felt her heart break for a moment. Does that mean he is family?

A chuckle emanated. _“It is better to consider those who are… corporeal as family. Oh—I do hope that the ghosts do not take offense. I did not wish to become partial in race. I only meant that it is better to consider people in the physical realm as—oh, forget it.”_

This time, a chuckle came from Frisk, albeit by thoughts.

_“The Underground beckons you back, child. The light grows ever stronger. I bid you farewell and good wishes in your traversals. If you feel that you are alone, know that I am with you._

_“Remember, find those who make you feel safe and loved.”_

As Frisk floats closer to the light, she barely had time to say goodbye back to the voice. Noises that sounded like high-pitched metallics overwhelmed her ears when the light engulfed her.

How many times could she possibly pass out? Frisk was about to find out as her eyes closed again.

* * *

It all felt so hypocritical, that talk about family. _He_ thought he was unqualified to discuss it with the small human, because let’s face it (if he even had a face at this point). When was the last time he was with his own family?

Though he tried to mean it with all sincerity, he felt like he was the void. Empty and senseless. But that seemed to placate the child.

_“It saddens me that I am not corporeal. I would have embraced the child. Did you feel the pain from her too?”_

The darkness holds a lot of secrets. He could not see where his companion went, but he knows that it is still there listening.

_“Her pain echoes through the void. It ebbs from the remnants of her Soul. It truly is fascinating how humans can surpass the monstrosity of monsterkind itself.”_

The void carried back a thought from his companion. The sheer absurdity in that thought took him by surprise.

_“Oh, but I do mean the things I have just said. But you have never possessed a heart, my friend. You would not know how that feels like.”_

Another thought.

_“Ah, you have seen something else from her. Shining crystals falling from her eyes? Those are called tears.”_

…

_“It is the first time in a very long while that I have seen that as well. The void should not be able to allow her to cry. It seems that her emotions—her torment—is greater than the shadows that we dwell in. She seems very, very interesting._

_“What do you think?”_

A hopeful chatter rang out, and he saw the outline of a skull emerging. He felt a smile growing at the familiar sight of his companion.

_“Yes, she is our hope of escaping the void. But I do think we should hold out for a little while longer.”_

He saw the large, monstrous skull tilting to the side. A question.

_“As I have said earlier, she is entering a conflict that will decide the fate of monsterkind. That includes us, my friend. Though I do hope that the horrible experiences would not speak for her next actions.”_

Anxiety filled up their area of the void. An involuntary shudder ran through him.

_“We can only watch and remain determined for our new human friend.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect an update within the next two weeks! College enrollment and applications are coming up, so I'll be a bit busy. Reviews are still appreciated! Stay safe, stay healthy. Love you all.


	12. Memory (Part 1)

Frisk figured that it might be her end.

As soon as the blinding white light consumed her entirely, she had been bracing herself for the unexpected. Who knows where she would end up next? But the freezing temperature of the snow overwhelmed Frisk’s skin when the light spewed her out of itself. Her face was down flat, back facing up. She sank right through the snow.

Her mind was screaming that it was painful and cold. The thought was practically a mantra in her head. In an attempt to get her bearings, she propped herself up slowly with her hands.

Obscenities that would earn her several mouth cleanses and spanks now filled her thoughts. Whatever damage that her father brought upon her in the Surface apparently was carried with her to the Underground. Frisk hissed through gritted teeth. Even though this was a dream—Frisk thought she could find herself some sort of respite in it.

Frisk sat with her legs forming a ‘w’. The back of her head was stinging so much, and her muscles felt like it was about to tear itself apart if she tried to stand. It was so overwhelming to her senses that she just lost all hope in her heart. Her chest felt heavy with the absolute disbelief. 

When she tried to look around (she still couldn’t move her head that much because of that damned headache), she recognized the pathway to the lake with the fishing pole up north and the sign that had ‘snow’ as descriptions to what were in the four directions. It was a bit far from Snowdin and judging by her wounds (both physically and emotionally), she won’t make it there any time soon.

A crunch made by the snow was heard right behind Frisk, and with that quick surge of hope of someone finding her, she abruptly turned to the direction of the noise. The pain in the back of her head spiked to an unspeakable intensity and Frisk howled in agony. The feeling forced her to fall back on all fours, and she sank further into the snow.

Frisk figured that it might be her end.

Turns out no one was there, after all. It was just a branch that fell softly, and she mistook it for a footstep. There was no one but her, the snowdrops, and the pine trees that loomed over her. 

_Cold_.

The silence of the area was feeding Frisk’s growing madness. The absence of breeze and movement allowed Frisk to just focus on the bite of the frost in her skin. The lack of living creatures made her remember it.

She can’t even say it. She dared not think of it—but the shock of it forced the memory to the front of her head anyway.

_"YOU’RE ALWAYS LIKE THIS, YOU TALK TO ME AS IF I’M NOT YOUR OWN SPOUSE!”_

No. 

_“I JUST FUCKING ASKED YOU WHAT THE SLIPPERS WERE FOR, AND YOU—”_

No, no, no.

_“YOU BITCH—”_

Frisk, despite the throbbing complaints of her arms to _not_ do anything sudden because it _ **hurts** so badly_, quickly covered her ears with both her hands. She shut her eyes tight as she instinctively curled herself into a ball.

Her breaths became shorter, and she was very sure that the snow had little to no reason for it. She felt her throat slowly close up, and she opened her mouth to just breathe in deep. The closing sensation was not a welcome one—and damned she would be if that happened.

But... her Dad. Her biological father just morphed into something else that day. And it terrified her out of her wits. She couldn’t believe that he was the same father that took her out on piggyback rides on the beach, who gave her ice cream with that soft smile, who cracked corny jokes at dinner ever so frequently.

She hated that side of him. If she could just run away, she would. She should. 

But will she?

The frail image of her mother—defenseless and vulnerable and depressed as she could ever be—it burned through Frisk, and she began to shake violently. 

Soon, the snow around her face melted with the tears that dropped. Still clutching her ears like her life depended on it, Frisk struggled for her breaths.

She was just 12... but the thoughts of just dying already plagued her.

_“STAY OUT OF THIS, FRISK, BECAUSE YOU’RE JUST AS CRAZY—”_

Frisk could feel something warm trickling down her fingers. She didn’t care— silencing him is her priority.

_“—AS YOUR—”_

_Shut up._

_“—FUCKING MOTHER!”_

_SHUT UP!_

Frisk sobbed into her folded arms. At this point, she didn’t care if she died right here, right now. The beginnings of a frostbite began to manifest, but her memories tormented her more. She remembered her mother telling her that fate was the one in charge of everything. From her life’s ups and downs, to her decisions.

In between involuntary gasps and sobs, she whispered.

“Why me?”

Her ears were burning and the trickles of blood now started to pool at a concerning rate. In her demise, she started to scream after one painful and sharp inhale.

“WHY ME?”

* * *

Papyrus thought he heard something. 

After the bizarre questioning brought upon by Sans earlier, Papyrus had decided to leave him to his brooding and resume his patrol around the snowy enclave. Though Frisk was already a human and he didn’t necessarily have to do his duty anymore, well... it wouldn’t hurt to try and capture another human and keep Frisk, right?“

SHE GAVE ME THE BEST DATE, AFTER ALL...” Papyrus found himself whispering the last part of his thoughts.

He passed by Sans’s sentry station, a well-crafted wooden lodge that was more spacious than the others. If it weren’t for the strange turnout of events, Papyrus figures that he would still be sleeping right now, with ketchup bottles littered on its floorboards.

Papyrus smiled at that faint imagery and was about to continue to make his rounds when a faint agonizing cry pierced through the stillness of the area.

_“WHY ME?”_

Frisk. That was definitely Frisk. Papyrus was on alert now and his bones were tensing up. She had said that she would be by the box near the Shop in Snowdin, why would she be—?

Sobs interrupted his confusion, and before he could think about any other matter, he broke into a run.

“FRISK?” Papyrus shouted. “FRISK, WHERE ARE YOU?”

Fear surged within him, and he thought that the Captain of the Royal Guard may have found her and is getting that sweet opportunity to take that one last human soul to King Asgore. 

“NO, THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING.” Papyrus breathed out as he urged himself to run faster. “FRISK!”

At the distance, he found the sign, and just a few meters away was an oddly shaped concavity in the snow. Within seconds, he readied his magic to summon a protective bone if he needed to.

Deep within that was a bloodied Frisk, and Papyrus took a step back in surprise. He looked around to check if there was any monster capable of doing this to Frisk, but she was alone. The pine trees were unperturbed, the snow glazed perfectly, and there were no signs of an encounter.

The heavy, violent cries of Frisk worried Papyrus. “FRISK... DID YOU DO THIS TO YOURSELF...?”

She didn’t acknowledge the question, and Papyrus wasn’t expecting for one anyway. He kneeled beside her and reached out a gentle hand, but he figured that she might not welcome the touch. He hastily grabs his phone and rushes through his contacts.

There wasn’t much anyway. He finds ‘SANS’ in it and dials a tone.

After a couple of rings, he answered.

_“‘sup bro—”_

Papyrus tried to rein in his panic, some of it slipped through anyway. “SANS! SANS, I NEED YOU TO GET HERE, I HAVE FOUND FRISK BUT HER FACE IS COVERED IN BLOOD AND SHE IS CRYING—”

_"hey, hey, slow down for minute, i can’t understand you. where’s here?”_

“BY THE SIGN THAT ONLY SAYS SNOW.”

Quiet feeds through the speakers before Papyrus hears an _“ok.”_

“SANS, THERE IS NO TIME—”

Something popped by in his peripheral vision, and it was Sans, a grave expression etched on his face with his cellphone still on his ear.

Papyrus sighed in relief, and Sans speed walked to the depression in the snow.

“oh no,” Sans breathed out in shock. He proceeded to question Papyrus without tearing his eyes away from Frisk. “was there someone...?”

“NO ONE WAS HERE, IT SEEMS. SHE—” Papyrus finally reached out to touch Frisk’s arm, but Frisk flinched, closing her eyes tighter. “SHE DID THAT TO HERSELF.”

“BROTHER, I THINK IT IS TIME FOR ONE OF YOUR SHORTCUTS.”

“was already on it.” Sans carefully inched himself towards Frisk. Even though she was in no position to welcome anyone’s touches, he still readied himself to pick her up into his arms. “kiddo, it’s me. sans. i’m gonna pick you up, ok? this is not the place to cry.”

Papyrus fidgeted and inched closer too.

“i’m gonna do it now. you’re safe with us, buddy.” Sans flinched for a bit when Frisk’s cries got louder, and Papyrus felt that fear strike again.

“SANS, WE HAVE TO HURRY OR SHE MIGHT HEAR HER!”

“i know,” Sans grunted through gritted teeth as he adjusts Frisk. Blood stains his hoodie.

“WHAT IF I CARRY HER?”

“no time, pap. plus, this shortcut is dangerous. she’ll be safer with me. just grab on to my shoulder.”

At the slightest touch of Papyrus’s hand to Sans’s shoulder, Sans initiated the teleportation. Within a blink, they were gone and back to the familiar sight of their home.

Sans laid her on the couch, and Papyrus busied himself to grab a first-aid kit and a towel from the kitchen.

“sorry bro.” Sans whispered when Papyrus reappeared in the living room. “i know you just cleaned the sofa.”

Blood soaked through the green textile, but Papyrus didn’t mind. 

“THAT’S THE LEAST OF OUR WORRIES NOW, BROTHER.” He told him as he set to work on cleaning Frisk’s wounded ears. Somehow, her cries had reduced to involuntary sniffles during the teleportation. Her eyes were still closed, but it was relieving to know that at least she had calmed down a bit. Sans sat down at the area by Frisk’s foot. 

No one said anything after that. They listened to Frisk’s irregular breathing, feeling the tension and grim curiosity in them. Tending and care comes first, the questions would follow later.

* * *

Back at the area where the skeleton brothers and Frisk came from, a figure appeared in the Eastern path. Heavy footsteps and deep footprints followed the figure as they made their way to the strange enclave by the sign. The environment seemed to hold its breath as the figure kneeled to inspect.

“Crimson.” the figure reached out a shiny armored hand to touch it.

“I would recognize this stain anywhere...” they twisted their hand in scrutiny. “The red matches the shine on my armor, wouldn’t you agree?”

A bark from behind the figure. They stand up.

“A human has entered the Underground, and apparently, a monster did a number on them. Poor punk, I would say.”

A harsh laugh escaped from the heavy steel helmet.

“HAH. As if. This just makes my job easier. Humans aren’t poor. They DON’T deserve our mercy.”

A spear materialized on the figure’s hand and threw it on the red marred snow.

“If anything, they all deserve to die.”


	13. Memory (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted the Memory chapters to only have two parts, but things happened while I was writing. Expect a Part 3!

It had been six hours since the skeleton brothers’ rescue of Frisk. The house had been fairly quiet, save for the occasional movement from either Papyrus or Sans around their spacious yet humble abode (though Papyrus doesn’t get why it’s called as a ‘ _humble_ abode’. If anything, he was proud of it).

Both of them took turns in watching over her. As of now, it’s nighttime. Frisk had calmed down around five hours ago, and she immediately transitioned into a dreamless slumber once she got the hang of her breathing again. Her eyes were incredibly swollen, and her ears were none the better. Papyrus did his best to clean and disinfect the gashes to prevent festering.

Papyrus ‘shift’ was almost over. He had just finished reapplying an ointment from a certain scientist when he checked the time. It’s nearly nine in the evening now, but all of them hadn’t eaten anything yet. His stomach gave a comical growl.

“SANS?” He whisper-shouted. He gave a quick glance at Frisk to ensure that he hadn’t accidentally woken her up. She only shifted her sleeping position. “SANS, ARE YOU THERE?”

When no one answered, Papyrus was about to give out a sigh when Sans appeared suddenly in front of him, holding two large paper bags.

“hey pap. i stopped by at grillby’s. figured that you might be hungry after all that…” He gestured to Papyrus’s neatly reapplied bandage with his paper-bag-filled arm. “i know that you kinda hate grillby’s, so i grabbed a couple of cinna-buns at the shop to go with your food.”

Sans may not admit it, but he really is responsible when he is needed. Papyrus gave his brother a wide smile before getting the bags from him. “THANK YOU, SANS. I APPRECIATE IT.”

“don’t mention it, bro.” Sans blinked out from his sight, presumably to place the bags by the kitchen counter, and reappeared.

“SANS, YOU DON’T HAVE TO USE YOUR SHORTCUTS HERE AT HOME.” Papyrus frowned. “YOU ARE GOING TO TIRE YOURSELF BEFORE YOUR SHIFT EVEN STARTS.”

His brother gave an amused huff before gesturing to Papyrus to get up. “relax, bro. i’ll be fine. plus, i just ate. there’s a lot more room for magic now.”

“WELL,” Papyrus took his advice and relaxed his shoulders, which tensed up during that slight scolding. “IF YOU SAY SO. I WILL BE EATING NOW.”

“take your time, pap.”

As Papyrus disappeared into the kitchen, Sans sat down where Papyrus was sitting earlier and proceeded to take a good look at Frisk’s current condition.

She was still sleeping. He would have added ‘peacefully’ into that sentence in his thoughts, but he scratched when he saw Frisk’s brows furrow slightly. It was a detail that anyone could miss, yet he knew that all too well. The beginnings of a nightmare.

He decided to act before Frisk would actually have one. He popped into his room and began looking for something. He found a bottle by the bedside table. Lavender oil.

Sans stared at the bottle. When both of them were still tiny skeletons, with Papyrus being an even smaller one, Sans would always catch Papyrus staying up in the middle of the night. _“Nightmare.”_ he used to say. And Sans, with the help of… someone ( _he couldn’t actually remember)_ , would always grab the lavender oil and tap it on his nose.

_“to help you sleep. us baby bones need to get a lot of sleep to be taller and stronger.”_

Now, Sans felt a bit bitter for not being tall as Papyrus (and he was the one getting more sleep!), but at least, at the time, Papyrus bought the reason and truly slept soundly as a baby bone.

Those were good and innocent times. Sans held on to the nearly depleted bottle tighter and blipped back to the living room.

He found Frisk squirming and burrowing herself into Papyrus’s lent stuffed toy. He paused for a bit and waited for Frisk’s head to crop up again for air. She did, after a couple of minutes. He tapped her nose with the lavender oil, and as if by actual magic, Frisk did look peaceful.

Sans glanced at the time. It’s half past nine.

“welp, that’s it for tonight,” he muttered to himself before sitting down again and slinking back into the backrest of the sofa. “sleep well, frisk.”

Not long after, Papyrus walked in to find the both of them snoozing on the sofa, with Sans sleeping with his arms crossed and Frisk uncurling herself to stretch. He grabbed a spare blanket by the coffee table and spread it across Sans’s lap.

“Sleep, brother.” Papyrus whispered as he adjusts the blanket to prevent it from falling off. As he turned his back to retreat to his own room, he took another glance at the both of them.

“Us skeletons need to get a lot of sleep to be taller and stronger.”

The house was dark as Papyrus switched off the last light by the staircase. It was cold but safe, and Frisk finally relaxed her hold on the tattered stuffed toy.

It was a welcome change.

* * *

It was 2 o’clock in the morning when Frisk woke up.

At first, Frisk felt nothing. Her vision was so unfocused like an unset camera lens. As she tried to stand, well, that’s when _everything hit_.

The subtle yet sharp ache behind her head, the feeling of the tight bandage wrap, and the scent of… what even is that funky smell?

Frisk tried to inhale. Okay, it wasn’t funky. It was soothing and light to sniff on the nose. One more inhale and she probably might recognize the scent—

“you look like a confused puppy right now with all the smelling. you would have _scent_ me chuckling right now if it weren’t for your injuries.”

She knew it was Sans speaking. If she had any energy right now, she would be even more surprised, but she just couldn’t spare any reaction to that. There weren’t any mirrors around, but Frisk knew that she looked as horrible as she currently feels. She gave a small smile to Sans as she tried to sit up.

“hey, hey, take it easy, buddy.” Sans assisted her by carrying her by her sides. Frisk resisted giving a yowl. “how are you feeling?”

As soon as she was sitting properly, Frisk wanted to tell him that it still hurts, but something else came out. “I’m hungry.”

Right on cue—Frisk’s stomach churned out a small noise.

“heh. had a feeling that you might want to eat,” Sans flicked his hand and Frisk saw faint wisps of blue smoke trailing from his fingers. An interesting sight—a glow in the dark show as a burger from the kitchen, encompassed with the same blue wisps, floated from the table.

“Wow,” Frisk said as the burger landed on her outstretched palms. “That was cool.”

“not me. pap is cooler.”

Frisk let out a small giggle in agreement. She then turned to her meal.

“Thanks for the burger.” she said shyly. She began tearing the aluminum foil that was covering the treat.

While Frisk was somewhat happily munching, Sans went back to what he was originally doing—reading—but not before silently examining Frisk.

She seemed alright. Her eyes were not as puffy as before. Though her hair is messy and somewhat caked with dry bits of blood from her ears, she seemed the right amount of peachy. Unless Frisk is particularly good at acting, Sans could conclude that she’s better after the power nap she had taken.

Comfortable silence was shared among the two, with Sans preoccupied with theories and hypotheses as to why Frisk was like that earlier and Frisk just focused on chowing down her dinner. Or breakfast.

Frisk decided to break the quiet with a question. She had a couple on her mind too. “Sans?”

“hmm?”

“Did you stay up reading all night?”

Sans looked like he was hesitating to answer. Frisk didn’t remove her eyes on him as she took another bite on her burger.

“nah. not really. i…” Sans was truly hesitating this time. “…had a nightmare, and i couldn’t go back to sleep. anyways, i’m in charge of looking after you too.”

“Oh.” Another bite. “Thanks for looking after me… but how did you find me?”

Frisk didn’t remember what happened after she cried out her last question to the universe. At the point where she closed her eyes, her mind was fuzzy and confused and just overwhelmed. Before she knew it, she had transitioned to sleep.

“papyrus found you in a really bad state while he was doing his rounds, kiddo.” Sans began, not meeting her curious eyes. “if you weren’t crying and doing all that shivering, it would have looked like you were dead.”

Frisk had wanted to die then. She wasn’t sure if she still wanted that now.

“he called me, and… damn it, kid. you really looked _terrible_. we really were worried. pap and i brought you here. we took turns taking care of you after.”

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” Frisk mumbled, lowering her gaze to her feet that were still covered with her pastel pink socks. The pink just looked like a pathetic brown color now. “For troubling you too, I…”

For a moment, she heard her father scream in her head. _“I kind of just wish you weren’t born. You’re troubling everyone with your constant need of attention and clumsiness!”_

Her hands twitched, and Frisk bit her lips to keep her from crying.

“i never said that was a bad thing.” Sans said. “in fact, it was a good thing that we found you there. who knows what could have happened if another monster found you lying there? not to scare you, but they would have taken your soul already, that’s for sure.”

_like a certain captain whom we’ve been trying to avoid._ Sans bitterly thought.

Frisk’s lips quivered. She really caused them to worry. “I’m really sorry—”

“kiddo.” Sans said firmly, holding Frisk now with both hands to ground her again. “there is no need to apologize.”

Frisk nodded, with her lower lip still between her teeth. Sans let her go and he slunk back on the sofa. “there’s something i want to know though, and it’s ok if you don’t wanna say it, but… what happened?”

“What?”

“what happened to you?” Frisk was looking down further, and Sans was now focused on Frisk. “what happened that it made you lose yourself like that?”

This time, Frisk was the one hesitating. Her heart started to pound, and her blood rushed wildly in her veins. Her vision narrowed for a moment as she remembered it again.

_“YOU’RE JUST AS CRAZY AS YOUR FUCKING MOTHER—”_

With a deep breath, she forced it out. “Things aren’t going so well at home.”

“so you do have a home.”

Frisk looked up at Sans, surprised.

Sans looked surprised too. “sorry. just blurted it out. it really was odd for you to just waltz out of the ruins like that.” He waved his hand for her to urge her on. “but uh, continue.”

Frisk shot him another bizarre look before she went on talking. “I… wasn’t able to reach the box by the shop, even though I told Papyrus that. I, uh, went back home.”

_This is so hard to explain without telling him that I woke up from this really detailed dream._ Frisk thought. _Stick to half-truths for the meantime, Frisky._

“When I got back home, I saw Mom and Dad fighting.” She held herself on her sides now, putting up one finger to her mouth to bite her nails. “They usually do fight but this was worse than the usual.”

Sans was quiet, and Frisk saw his eyes narrowing down and his forehead creasing. A feat that shouldn’t be done by a skeleton, but Frisk held her grim fascination.

“I tried to intervene. At first, it was hard because my throat feels like it’s closing whenever that happens. I usually hide in my room whenever that would happen, but I really did try to stop Dad. But then…”

Frisk felt the exact same sensation on her throat. It was scary to think of that again, it really was. But she forced herself anyway.

“Dad got even madder at me instead. He—he tried to hurt Mom. But Mom was already hiding behind the couch. She was looking at me like she needed help, and that really hurts to see. I see her like that a lot because they do that a lot, but there was something else in her eyes. She screamed, Sans! I never heard Mom scream like that before.

“I tried to stop Dad. I held on to his hand before he could throw that mug. I was really scared ‘cause Dad was also a karate guy before. Black belter and all. He pushed me away many times, but I held on, until he really flung me to the cabinet.”

The back of her head echoed the pain as she thought back to that. Though her eyes were settled on Papyrus’s stuffed toy, she could feel Sans’s eyes locking on to her.

“The glass panels of the cabinet broke when I hit it. It really hurt.” Frisk mumbled as she rubbed the back of her head. “I guess you could say that I… got out and managed to get to that sign, back in the snow. I don’t usually like remembering things like that. I don’t like it at all when they’re like that.”

“I—I’m pretty sure that they still love each other beneath all that, you know!” Frisk quipped after the long silence that ensued. “I still love Mom and Dad. I’m also sure that there are families like that and I’m just being sensiti—”

A low growl escaped Sans’s mouth, and Frisk abruptly looked up to him. He sounded feral, and the expression on his face was unreadable.

“frisk. since when—” Sans closed his eyes. “since when were they like that?”

Frisk fell into a contemplative silence. “I… uh… I don’t really know. They’ve been like that ever since.”

_Ever since birth._

When Sans looked up, Frisk froze as she sees the slightest wisp of blue flowing from his right eye. It was barely noticeable, but with the darkness, it was just as bright anyway.

“kid. there is no normal family that has those kind of dynamics.” Sans gritted through his teeth. “i’m sorry to say this, but that’s an abusive family.”

_Abusive?_ Frisk’s eyes widened at the term. That was a bit too harsh, was it? “But—but we’re not ALWAYS like that! They—they—”

“they what?” Sans pushed. “frisk, no father should be able to do that to their child. much less a _kid—”_

“But they said they loved me!” Frisk cried, shrinking back to the couch. “They have their bad days and…”

_shit._ Sans thought. _did I go too far? she isn’t ready for this conversation. frisk’s only twelve, damn it!_

“Sorry kiddo.” Sans muttered, interrupting Frisk’s barrage of whatever excuses she had to say. “I guess I went too far.”

“…It’s okay.”

“but… tell me, kiddo.” Sans asked, filled with growing concern. “is it ok for you to… to tell me the other instances? where your parents fought?”

She was now taken aback by this. She hasn’t told anyone this yet. Her family has always forced her to paint a perfect picture of their lovingness and bond whenever she brought home a friend, or whenever they went out. Things were different when the curtains were closed, and it is a secret that she must keep quiet.

But something in her—despite that family policy—urged her on to confide in Sans. Her heart felt like a bottle that was about to explode and overflow with so much pent up emotions and experiences. She suddenly felt tired of just hiding in her room and cry it out.

_“Find those who make you feel safe.”_

_Where had she heard that line?_

“It’s—it’s a long story.” Frisk fiddled with her fingers before hugging the stuffed toy tighter.

“it’s okay. i’m here.” Sans placed a caring hand on her shoulder, to which Frisk looks on. “we’ve got all the time in the world.”

On the corner of Sans’s eye, he saw someone else sitting in the shadows on the mezzanine of their home. Frisk hadn’t noticed it, but Sans did.

_we’re here._ Sans thought as he acknowledged the hidden presence of Papyrus.


End file.
